Department of Magical Creatures Case 62637
by RonsPigwidgeon
Summary: At 21, Draco Malfoy is on a journey to find his life mate, but is delayed by pesky Hufflepuffs screaming 'regulations' and 'laws'. Please, Malfoys play by their own rules. Pairings inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Department of Magical Creatures Case #645369

**Author:** feltonxmalfoy

**Beta:** domtheknight

**Pairing:** DM/RW (eventually), DM/EM, DM/SF, DM/TH, DM/JFF, DM/CW, DM/multipleOMC's, RW/3OMC's, HG/OMC, BW/FD

**Chapter:** One

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** slash, swearing, sexual acts (but no details for now)

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** At 21, Draco Malfoy is on a journey to find his life mate, but is delayed by pesky Hufflepuffs screaming 'regulations' and 'laws'. Please, Malfoys play by their own rules.

* * *

Draco Malfoy sat in an uncomfortable chair facing an unoccupied desk, tapping his fingers on his knee impatiently. He had chosen silk robes of a pale blue and his hair was pulled back with an intricate silver clasp. The fabric felt good against his fingers, but that did not deter his displeasure; he had been waiting for a total of two minutes and twenty-eight seconds and was beginning to feel offended. Malfoys are not kept waiting unless under dire circumstances. MacMillan had better be bleeding internally.

Finally the short, blond man came into sight, looking a tad bit flustered and annoyed. "Sorry, Malfoy. Had a meeting with the department head. Haven't kept you waiting long, I hope?"

Draco only sniffed indignantly and began to examine his nails. MacMillan sat down and surveyed him. "Right. Down to business, I suppose. Now that you've got your powers, I assume that you will be looking for your mate, unless you've already found him or her?"

"Him, and no, I have not."

"Right, then I'll need you to fill out some paperwork. As my department controls the breeding of magical creatures, we'll need to have a file on you."

"Why? I can't exactly breed, can I? I'm gay."

"No, we're fairly certain that you can not, but we would rather not take the risk. I need you to fill out these forms and we'll need a picture." He handed Draco several parchments, all longer than Draco thought they had any right to be, as well as a quill and an ink bottle. He then pulled out some parchments of his own and proceeded to ignore Draco completely. Draco bristled, but went about filling out the parchments anyway, flashing Macmillan a glare for good measure.

"'Have you ever used magic other than veela attraction in order to enhance a sexual experience? If so, what sort did you use and what was the result?' How exactly is that any of the Ministry's bloody business?"

Macmillan didn't even look fazed as he glanced up. "What if one of those spells went wrong and created an otherwise impossible pregnancy? We would need documentation."

"Well, I'll let you know if it does. In the meantime, that question will remain blank." He returned to the parchment only to pause at Macmillan's voice.

"I'm afraid it can't. Ministry regulation says all paperwork must be filled out in full."

"And if I don't give a damn about the Ministry and its bloody paperwork? I'm only indulging you because you're cute, you know. I could walk out right now."

"You do and the Ministry has no choice but to strip you of citizenship, educational honors, etc., and send you on the next Portkey out of England."

Draco started. "What! Don't be ridiculous! I'm a pure-blood, and a Malfoy. I doubt the Ministry will forget the generous donations my family has provided for generations, and continues to contribute to this day. It would be a shame if those funds inexplicably stopped, wouldn't it?"

MacMillan held in his sigh of frustration. This was not going to be an easy case. But then again, Draco Malfoy never made anything easy. "Mr. Malfoy, you are registered, or will be, as a half-magical creature. Prestigious as your family name may or may not be, you have to fill out the paperwork. Both of your parents did. And do not flaunt your name. I'd like you to keep in mind that my family has significant influence in the Ministry as well. And more so considering your father's affiliations."

Draco stiffened considerably, his glare hardening in a faint imitation of his father's. "I would be much obliged if you refrain from mentioning my father, thank you."

"Gladly. Please fill the forms out completely." Macmillan ignored the sneer and long string of furious curses and went back to his work. Draco continued to sneer at his bowed head for a long moment before turning back to the parchment and writing a very clear NO before moving on. Ten minutes passed in quiet, defined by a far-off argument and scratches of quills.

The quiet was breached once more by the loud slamming of papers onto the desk. Draco was glaring once more. "How is my most frequently used sexual position even remotely relevant to this inquiry?"

"Same reason as the other question." Vicious anger was obvious in Draco's deadly glance, but then something in his eyes flickered and he visibly relaxed.

MacMillan was pleased to have him calming down. A coy smile replaced the death stare on Draco's face. Macmillan shivered, whether in weary fear or something else he was uncertain.

"Are you sure it would be sufficient to merely describe my favorite position?"

Things became a bit warm and hazy in Ernie's head. "I'm not sure I understand your meaning."

Draco leaned over in his chair and his voice dipped to a low purr, "Wouldn't it be more beneficial to have… a visual aide instead? Perhaps a demonstration might help?"

"A demonstration?" MacMillan's thoughts were becoming thick and it was increasingly difficult to keep a comprehensive grip on them, like trying to fly a rain-slicked broomstick in a thunderstorm. The room temperature had somehow risen about two degrees and he nervously loosened his tie to relieve some of the tension.

"Mmm, a nice, long, hot demonstration." Draco leaned over the desk and started rubbing small circles into the pulse point on Ernie's wrist with his thumb. "We could go to the bathroom… find a stall… and you could fuck me into the wall so hard I forget my own name. How about it, Ernie?"

MacMillan let out a low groan at the intonation put on his name and his eyelids fluttered shut briefly. "Did I tell you I've invented a new Cleansweep? It's faster than the Firebolt."

"Really? That sounds fascinating. Why don't you tell me all about it on the way to the bathroom?" Draco stood, followed closely by a goofily grinning Macmillan, and turned down the hall to find the nearest restroom. Ernie was telling him about his "new broom", but he stopped listening a few words in. Soon he had shuffled them into an empty bathroom, locked the door behind them with a lazy flick of his wrist, and proceeded to introduce his tongue to MacMillan's. He was pleased to find himself pressed against the door and quickly divested of his clothing, taking no time at all to reciprocate.

Forty-five minutes later, Draco was back to filling out forms, skipping over several questions at a time and looking immensely pleased with himself for having got his way. He looked up and flashed a rather ruffled-looking Macmillan a charming grin as he sat down, decidedly ignoring the scowl on the other man's face. "See how easy that was to resolve? Maybe now you'll think twice before asking me to answer rude and improper questions about my private life."

MacMillan glared. "Malfoy, I would appreciate it if you if you would never exploit your sexual powers against me again. That was completely uncalled for and extremely inappropriate. Persuading me to do your lascivious bidding in the men's room is not the proper way to achieve your goal, and you are still under obligation to answer every question, so I suggest you cease leaving questions blank if you'd like to remain a citizen of this country."

The self-satisfied smirk left Draco's face immediately and he let out an indignant huff before returning to the forms. An hour later, Draco set the quill and ink down and set his glare on Macmillan, hoping to kill him with his stare alone. It took exactly one minute before the pressure got to MacMillan, who swallowed before looking up. "Finished?"

"Yes, is there anything else you'd like to bore me with? I have other, more pressing matters to attend to this afternoon."

"Just some guidelines I'd like to remind you of and a few formalities we need to go over. You understand that, as a registered magical creature, you are to report to me once every few weeks so that I can monitor your progress, correct?"

Draco straightened upon hearing this. "Every few weeks? Whatever for?"

"So that I can monitor your breeding, make sure you don't suddenly find a nice veela girl and make veela babies without my knowledge."

"Won't happen. I find women repulsive in sexual situations."

"Either way, it's still regulation. All you need to do is fill out this form every two to three weeks and owl it to me. The folder has a replenishing spell on it, so you can't say you ran out of forms. I want you to fill them out in full, and don't leave anyone out, alright, Malfoy? I don't necessarily need explicit details, but I want the ages, names, and such filled out, understand?" He passed a manila folder to Draco with a parchment attached to the front showing the form format. Draco skimmed the contents and then sneered at Ernie.

"You expect me to give you a description of my sexual activities every few weeks? Isn't that some form of severe personal privacy invasion?"

"Not when you're a magical creature looking for a mate. We have a legal right, and some feel obligation, to know what you are up to. Especially when your extended powers are singularly sexual in nature. I'm not even going to bring up the fact that you seem to lack any scruples in using your sexual prowess to further your personal goals." He received a sniff and a flippant head toss in response.

"And what of the gentlemen I am with? Do they not have any rights in this? Or does sleeping with an animal overrule one's rights?"

Sighing, MacMillan rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Sleeping with you doesn't necessarily overrule their rights, but this is for their protection as well as yours. If something were to happen to get one of them pregnant, we would know what to do. In light of that, this situation calls for an… alteration of their rights."

"And that includes you, doesn't it?"

"What do you mean, Malfoy?"

"I will have to include the incident in the men's room in my report, correct?"

"Yes, you will."

"And you will not get in trouble for fraternizing with your one of your creatures? I assume the head of department will at the very least skim through my reports?"

"Yes, he will, and I have no idea whether or not I will be penalized. I was under your influence, though, so I doubt any punishment will be significant"

A thin, pale brow went up. "All right, as I am apparently at the Ministry's will, I'll do as ordered. Is there anything else, Macmillan?"

"Yes. As I assume you already know, you are not to touch anyone mated to another creature."

"I would never stoop to such a dishonor."

"Right, no other creatures, either. No werewolves or vampires or dwarves or whatever other kind of creature not veela or wizard that you might find yourself enamored with."

"And if my mate is bitten by a werewolf or a vampire before I find him?"

"Then he is not your mate. You body does not necessarily pick one person at birth and simply start searching for that person when you come of age. It uses the process of elimination while you are growing up to determine which scents do not correspond with qualities that will fit with you until you finally come across the one that fits the qualities that will perfectly meld with yours. Does that make any sense at all?"

"No, not at all."

Macmillan sighed and rubbed at his forehead with his thumb and forefinger absently. "Okay, you know that you find your mate by scent, correct? Well, the way that happens is through the process of elimination. Each person has a scent specific to them and certain parts of that scent correspond with certain aspects of that individual's personality. Your body can decipher these scents and recognizes which will go best with yours. Clear so far?" There was a slight nod. "Right, so your body already knows which parts of a scent are necessary for someone to match you perfectly. The thing is it cannot automatically put all those parts together into one scent. Instead, it goes from person to person, dismissing everyone it recognizes as not having the correct combination until it finally stumbles upon the person that does and that person is your mate. Understand now?"

"Yes, you've made it clear. So my body will recognize that a werewolf or a vampire is not a proper mate because they possess the incorrect scent automatically?"

"Yes."

"Okay, that explains the whole no mating with other creatures bit, but what if I just want to mess about with one of them? Let's say I wanted to shag Remus Lupin silly. Are you telling me that the Ministry prohibits me from doing so?"

"Professor Lupin! Malfoy! What on Earth would ever possess you to want to sleep with Professor Lupin?" Ernie's nose was scrunched up and his forehead reduced to a series of wrinkles.

"It was an example. Lupin happens to be the only non-veela magical creature that I know."

"Right. From a legal standpoint, yes. If something were to happen and you were to produce a child—however unlikely the occurrence may be—you would have a quarter-veela werewolf on your hands and interbreeding is illegal." Draco remained silent, his attention shifting to his nails. "I'm assuming it's safe to move on. When you do find your mate, I expect to be notified within five days. The bond is not to be created without the Ministry's immediate awareness."

"The sexual bond or the blood?"

"Both."

"And if we're in the throes of passion and can't get near a Floo or a quill for days?"

"Let's hope the 'throes' don't last for five days because you'll be penalized."Draco's nostrils flared in annoyance, but he otherwise looked calm, perhaps even slightly defeated. "Why? What does it matter? Why can't I just write it in this little report I have to keep sending you?"

"Because there is paperwork to be filled out and he'll need to come in to be registered as your mate."

"Why?"

"For legal purposes. If you assault someone in defense of your mate and they press charges, there is nothing the Ministry will be able to do to protect you if your mate has not been registered."

"Protect me? Explain."

"As it is your nature and unavoidable, you have a legal right to protect your mate at all costs. If an event should arise where you will need to exercise that right, we cannot defend you in court if there are no records of your mate.""So, let's say my mate is Zabini and you threaten him. Then, I could hurt you in retaliation?"

"As long as the threat was physical or mental in regards to your bond and the retaliation was done in defense."

"What do you mean by 'mental in regards to your bond'?"

"If I were to try to convince your mate to go against you, or to leave you, you would have a legal right to retaliate against me."

"And could that retaliation be physical?"

"Are you asking if you could maim me to get me to leave your mate alone?"

"Yes."

"Yes, but that would only be in the extreme case that you've asked me persistently to leave him alone and I have not. You're going to find, and more so in the beginning than later on, that you become extremely protective of your mate and easily jealous. It is not a reflection on your person, so don't start that snit I can see you're already thinking about. It is natural for veelas to be… how do I put this… clingy when they first discover their mates. And anyone who tries to come between a veela and his or her mate usually discovers themselves at the business end of the veela's wand fairly quickly."

"Why would I care if some imbecile decides to try and steal my mate? Anyone with sense would never consider leaving me, and I couldn't be with someone that hadn't any sense."

"You're not going to feel that way when you've found him. You'll be wary of anything that separates you from him for more than a few minutes, be it owl post or his mother. You'll probably want to have a lot of physical contact. Not necessarily sexual—although that is a large part of it. Holding hands, cuddling, kissing, that sort of thing. It may not be part of your normal behavior, and with you I severely doubt that it is, but don't worry. It is a natural part of forming a bond and the need will relax with time, although it will never entirely go away."

"So, I'm going to act like a bloody woman for a little while?"

"You can put it that way, yes."

A look of exhaustion flashed across Draco's face, before the bored look returned. "Is there anything else? I don't particularly fancy spending my entire day at the bloody Ministry of Magic listening to a pompous Hufflepuff telling me what to do."

MacMillan pretended not to hear the jibe as he shuffled a few papers around to make sure he hadn't missed anything. "That seems to be it. Are there any other questions?" He received a glare in return. "Right then, that's it. I expect your first report in the next two weeks."

Draco stood, taking the folder containing the forms with him, and sneered at MacMillan in farewell before sweeping out the door, intending to Apparate home and rant to his mother. As soon as he was out of site, Ernie sat back and took a deep, relaxing breath. He could not believe that he was stuck with handling Draco bloody Malfoy. This Ministry job looked less and less promising by the minute. Tea, a spot of tea was what he needed, to calm his nerves after such an encounter and forget all about the headache that was Draco Malfoy.

/

Robert Foster was a senior member of the department. He was, in fact, the oldest member of the group besides the Department Head, a man who made Albus Dumbledore look like a teenager. His influence with the higher-ups was used to help Ernie along in his blossoming career. As soon as Ernie took over the desk next to him, Robert had taken him under his wing, and Ernie was grateful for it. He was sure he would have been fired within the first week if it had not been for Robert's helpful hints and advice. They got along wonderfully, both having a penchant for hard work, and a thirst for further knowledge about nearly everything. The only problem was that Robert had a tendency towards the amused in situations Ernie classified as 'dire' or 'outrageous' or 'things which could get me fired', and he was never quite certain if the man was serious in his advice or merely taking the mickey.

It was this way the morning after Ernie's first 'encounter' with Draco Malfoy; Robert sat at his desk, smirking, the light in his eyes twinkling, putting all sorts of unease into the pit of Ernie's stomach. It took a few minutes of nervous shuffling through paperwork before the deep baritone cut through the air, riddled with amusement. "How was your interview yesterday with Mr. Malfoy?""Horrendous. I thought Malfoy was bad when we were in school. This whole veela thing... I shudder to think what'll happen when he finds his mate."

"And did you get to experience that veela power yourself..?" The smirk widened.

Ernie paused in his paper-clipping to blink doe-like at him. "Sorry?"

"You know, they don't tell you this in training, but a veela's signature stays with their partner for days afterwards. There's a really simple charm you can use to find it on anyone. Mr. Malfoy's is all over you."

Ernie rolled his eyes. "The bloody wanker used his magic to try to get me to relax on his registration. He thought if he seduced me, I'd let him slack on some of the more personal questions. I couldn't help it. Am I going to get in trouble?" The utter indignation that the 'incident' had caused him was wiped clean by sheer terror for the termination of his job. Putting aside whatever nonchalance he had used with Malfoy, the idea of possible termination had kept him up half the night. Robert was still smirking, though, so that was a good sign.

"No, although the whole department will hear of it, and quite probably mock you for weeks. There was a reason that we assigned you to Mr. Malfoy, besides your previous association. All registering veelas do the same thing he did. Think of it as... an initiation, of sorts. A welcome."

Ernie just stared at him blankly for several minutes. "Are you telling me that this was planned? I was set up for seduction via Draco Malfoy by the entire department?"

"Yes." He was so matter-of-fact in his answer that it left Ernie without a response. He was still until Robert flashed him a grin and turned back to his work. Blinking a few times and shaking the cobwebs out of his brain, Ernie acquired a small frown and began to prepare himself for his next case.

/

**Form:** 83352739

**Name:** Draco Malfoy

**Registry Number:** 625369

**Date:** 01 jan 2001

**Age:** 21

**Mate:** N/A

**Current Location:** London, England

**Number of Sexual Encounter(s):** 3

**Name(s) of Partner(s):** Ernie Macmillan 1(M), Thomas Bownal 2(M)

**Age(s) of Partner(s):** 21, 25

**Species of Partner(s):** both were wizards

**Description of Sexual Encounter(s):** Macmillan's pathetic excuse for a fuck was up against the wall of the toilets down the hall from his office. Only lasted a few minutes and was probably the worst I've ever had (I do not have bad sexual encounters). Thomas was slow, but enthusiastic, and he spent all of his time pleasuring me without a thought for himself. He did this fantastic little move with his tongue across my head that just wow. In general, he was a fantastic shag, but sadly, definitely not my mate.

**Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s):** Yes

**If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects:** Thomas used a tickling charm that nearly drove me up the wall.

**Did any encounter result in pregnancy:** No

**Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate:** Yes, of course. But I don't specifically see how that could be any of your business. I was told to use my persuasive abilities in any manner that suits me best and that is exactly what I intend to do.

**Comments:** This is useless and obnoxious. My lawyers will find a way out of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Department of Magical Creatures Case #645369

**Author:** feltonxmalfoy

**Beta:** domtheknight

**Pairings:** DM/RW (eventually), DM/EM, DM/SF, DM/BZ, DM/TH, DM/JFF, DM/multipleOMC's, RW/2OMC's, HG/OMC, BW/FD

**Chapter:** Two

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** slash, swearing, sexual acts (but no details for now)

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** At 21, Draco Malfoy is on a journey to find his life mate, but is delayed by pesky Hufflepuffs screaming 'regulations' and 'laws'. Please, Malfoys play by their own rules.

* * *

Harry had been shooting furtive glances at the gentleman in the corner for half an hour, nearly putting Hermione off her lunch with the knowledge that he was not actively listening. She had asked what his interest in the man was several times only to be told not to concern herself, which was said in his cryptic, spastically guarded manner that her friend only reserved for Voldemort and Auror work. Twirling the little plastic straw in her drink, she wondered idly why Harry was pursuing a case in Muggle London and also why he'd essentially invited her on the reconnaissance with him. Sighing, she pulled out the only subject she knew would grab his attention. "Do you think I should marry Nigel?"

His neck snapped around so fast she was surprised he hadn't broken it. "What? Why? Did he ask?"

She suppressed the self-satisfied smile and shrugged nonchalantly. "No, not yet, but he will. We've been together over two years; we've talked about it. He's just got the practice on its feet. It's really only a matter of time. Do you think I should?"

"I don't know, do you want to? Do you love him?"

"Of course I do."

"What about Ron?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, what about him?"

"Shouldn't you discuss it with him? He did kind of have first dibs on the marriage thing."

"That became null and void as soon as he stepped out of the closet. Besides, he lives in Egypt with Bill and Fleur and that flaming Forten."

"Forten? Is that his name? Ron won't let me meet him."

She rolled her eyes. "He will. You just always seem to be conveniently out of the country every time they came 'round."

With the reminder of his work, Harry's eyes wandered back to the corner dweller. A second man had joined him. The two huddled close and began speaking in low voices. She lost his attention for a few more minutes. "What's the guy like? Is he nice?"

"He's not horrible. I don't know if he's really for Ron, though. He's a little… outlandish. He's more of a girl than I am. I didn't think Ron was into feminine partners…"

"He must like the guy, though, right?"

"Maybe he thinks he has to be with a girly type. This is his first relationship with another guy, isn't it? Maybe he's still a little unsure on his feet."

"It's been six months." Harry looked slightly skeptical of the idea.

"What is your point?"

"You'd think he'd have figured it out by now, don't you? If it wasn't what he wanted."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, unused to having her ideas questioned, especially by Harry. "I don't know, maybe he feels obligated to stay? Look what happened with Lavender. He's not exactly good at breaking up. You know, I sometimes wonder if I hadn't said anything about his obsession with Galvin Gudgeon's arse, if we'd still be together now."

Harry only shrugged noncommittally and turned to watch the original man stand, passing the newcomer a sealed parchment that looked to be concealing something before ducking out of the restaurant. Harry watched him the entire way, seeming to forget Hermione's existence or the conversation they'd previously been having. Already miffed, Hermione's impatience crept to an unbearable height and she turned on him.

"I cannot believe you. You've invited me on a bloody reconnaissance mission, didn't you? I'm sure that's against Auror rules. You could get fired! And you won't even have a proper conversation with me. You keep glancing over in that corner and muttering when I'm trying to make the best out of the rare time I actually get to see you! Do you do this to Ron, too? Is that why he stays hidden away in the damnable Egypt with barely an owl every few weeks? No, that can't be it. Ron would like this with all that stuff he does in Egypt, but I don't. I followed you half-way across the Continent and back to kill Voldemort and I'm through with all this danger rubbish. You can Floo me when you're ready to invite me out properly." She began to stand up, but suddenly found herself literally glued to her seat and Harry looking frantic and possibly near drowning on his own words.

"I'm sorry! Calm down! I don't even know what you're on about. This isn't a recon mission."

"Don't try to deny it. You were staring at that bloke in the corner all afternoon."

"Maybe I thought he was fit."

"Yeah, maybe if you were _gay_, you idiot. And even if you were, don't think I don't know you and Ron would be shacked up somewhere shagging like bunnies." She was pleased to have caused the look of horror that spread across his face. "But, since neither is the case, stop lying. And don't invite me on field work again, or I'll hex all your pants into knickers and you won't be able to switch them back."

Momentarily defeated by the sheer determination in Hermione's countenance, Harry sighed and tugged at the back of his hair. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it. I just… I haven't seen you in a while and I couldn't think of any other way to meet with you. It wasn't dangerous, they're just dealing in magic carpets anyway, nothing as serious as mad Dark Lords or Lucius Malfoy. Do you completely hate me?"

"Yes. But if you absolutely swear to be in London on the Twenty-Eighth, I may reconsider transfiguring your pants."

"I'll see what I can do." Conversation resumed at a more usual pace, although tension hung between them for the rest of their meeting. She did not bring her possible nuptials up again for fear that Harry might take her seriously. The memory of Luna's wedding was still fresh in her mind. She'd married Michael Brownsent, a Ravenclaw boy two years her senior who'd taken one look at Harry, Ron, and Neville all lined up with menacing glares and nearly backed out of the whole thing.

Upon arriving home several hours later to find the flat empty, she sat on the sofa for an hour in thought before deciding an international Floo was necessary. She knew that Ron's work schedule was unpredictable at best, but she decided to make an attempt. If he wasn't home, she could leave a message with the fluffy thing he called a boyfriend. She dug behind the chest of knitting next to the fireplace and found her international Floo powder and crawled on her knees over to the open fire. After calling "Sandstorm Flat, Egypt", she stuck her head in the flames and found herself looking at Ron Weasley's sofa. Forten, usually lounging on said sofa, was nowhere to be seen, but she could glimpse Ron huddled over the kitchen table with two large stacks of books in front of him. She nearly forgot what she was meant to be doing with the shock of seeing him voluntarily researching. When several minutes went by without his noticing her, she cleared her throat. He nearly jumped out of his own skin. "Hermione! You scared me! What are you doing?"

"I need to talk to you." Understanding her tone, he shut the book he'd been looking at and went over to sit on the hearth rug. "Have you spoken to Harry recently?"

"I only get international Floos from you and Mum. He owled a week ago, but it was all flowers, no truth. I think he's getting paranoid about his post. Why?"

"Will you owl him and ask him to take a few days off to stay with you?"

"Sure, but why?"

"I think he's lonely, but he doesn't want to say anything. He asked me to lunch today, but it was more of a reconnaissance than lunch. He actually invited me to a stake out with him and didn't even tell me! What if the men had been dangerous? I could have been in a scuffle!" She ignored the smirk that instantly came onto Ron's face at the suggestion.

"Exactly which part is the problem? The fact that Harry brought you on a mission, or that he didn't tell you about it beforehand?"

"Both are equally vexing."

"All right, well I can see why you've got your knickers in a bunch about the whole not telling you bit, but what's the matter with him inviting you on a mission? We've gone with him loads of times during school. Why not now, too, now that we can actually defend ourselves?"

"It's the principle of it, Ron. He's an Auror, he shouldn't be doing things like that and he knows it. He could get himself fired."

"Why would he risk that? He loves being an Auror."

"I don't know, maybe he's tired of fighting all the time. I certainly would be."

"Harry's existence is fighting evil. There's no way he wouldn't want to." He seemed firm on this point, assuring her that any argument would be ignored.

"Whatever, Ron. Just invite him for a mini-break, please? He can meet Forten, if nothing else."

"I'll owl him, but I'm not promising anything." They lapsed into silence, punctuated by the ticking of the clock, before Ron perked up as if having a sudden though. "Oi, what's this about Forten being a woman? Fleur's on some sort of mission to get me to bin him and told me you fully supported her because you think he's more of a woman than you are. There's nothing wrong with him."

"Of course not, he's just a bit… feminine in his mannerisms. Almost like Parvarti and Lavender used to be."

"Excuse me, but Forten enjoys Divination class about as much as you do and I thought we agreed never to mention the 'L' word."

She rolled her eyes. "All right, I'm sorry I said anything. I don't know where she would even get such a notion. I haven't spoken to her since Yule and that was only to wish her a Happy Christmas."

"Yeah, well, maybe you should owl and set her straight. She wants to set me up with some French professor she went to school with and she won't take 'no' for an answer."

"Why don't you?"

His expression turned part incredulous and part exasperated. "Because I'm in a relationship!"

"With a bloke that isn't right for you at all. Forten isn't going anywhere in his life, he's just crashing at your flat and working at random Muggle bars. You've a career that seems to be going somewhere, you're a war hero, and you're best friends with the most famous wizard since Voldemort. You don't need to be scampering about with an idiot Queen. Maybe this Frenchman will be more… settled and serious."

The incredulity turned to anger and he stood, causing Hermione to have to crane her neck to see his face. "I think it's best you stay out of my love life." With that she found herself cut off, staring into her own flames and completely flabbergasted.

"What…"

"Something wrong, dear?" came Nigel's voice from somewhere near the kitchen. She hadn't heard him come home, but looking around, she could see him bent between the open lower cupboard doors. She stood and smoothed the dust from her hair, making her way to the kitchen.

"Ron just… hung up on me. I didn't even know you could hang up on Floo calls…"

Nigel straightened and turned to look at her, a box of noodles in one hand and a perplexed look on his face, "Ron? Why would he do that? Did you say something about Forten again?"

"I only told him that he should consider someone who was more stable. It wasn't necessary for him to get angry…"

Her boyfriend smiled, knowing that whatever she'd said, it hadn't been as simple as considering a more stable lover. "I'm sure it'll work itself out. I'm making spaghetti, that all right?"

"That's perfectly fine. Let me wash up and I'll help you." She stood and walked over to peck him on the lips before heading towards the bathroom. The sound of his humming could be heard until she turned the shower on and stepped under the hot spray.

/

Tired and a little ruffled from a full day sitting in the wind and rain with only a waterproofing charm on his robes and a measly umbrella to keep his line of site fairly open, Seamus stalked into the hotel with the intention of taking his messages and heading straight to a warm bath and bed. He had to wait in a line two people deep before he could speak to the receptionist, a dark-haired young woman with smoldering eyes that reminded him faintly of one of Dean's paintings. She gave him a disapproving glance-over before raising a questioning eyebrow. "Seamus Finnigan, room 1527. I wouldn't happen to have any messages, would I?"

"One moment." She turned away from him and retrieved a small stack of scrolls. "There you are, Mr. Finnegan. You may firecall the directory to have a pigeon sent to your room when and if you are in need of one. Have a nice night." It was clear by her tone that she did not care whether he had a wonderful night or died horribly in one of those blood rituals his mum had warned him that the Americans liked to do. He smiled as politely as he could, took the messages, and headed for the lift. The only other man in the lift looked pleasant enough in slim-fitting jeans and a pressed Oxford.

"Is the weather always this horrid in Chicago?" The man eyed him warily and minutely stepped away from him, giving no other indication that he had even heard Seamus. He got off on his floor quickly, flashing the Irishman a look of contempt before the doors closed on him. Seamus let out a sigh and ran his fingers through his short hair. This was not his day.

/

"Two pints of Miller Light, please." The barman looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. "Do ya not serve Miller Light, here? The bloke I'm meeting with said you did…"

"This is a bar; we sell beer in bottles or by the pitcher. I don't know what the fuck a 'pint' is, but go back to Scotland if you want one."

Not sure what to say, Seamus let his mouth hang open momentarily. "You're incredibly rude, you know tha'? Get me a _pitcher_ of Miller Light then." The barman gave him a sneer to rival his eldest sister, Iris, and turned to get the pitcher. Leaving a few bills on the bar, he took it and the two glasses and headed back to his table. Maximus Brankovitch III, the 'best' America had in way of seeker, sat across from him, brushing long, brown curls from his eyes as he waited for his drink. "Are all the barman in this country that rude or was it just him?"

"Rude?" He seemed more interested in the pouring of his beer than in Seamus himself.

"The barman told me if I wanted a pint, I should be back to Scotland. I'm not even Scottish!"

"I've noticed that everyone's an asshole in this city, and especially the Muggles." He took a grateful sip and then another, eyes closing in quiet praise of the beer gods.

Seamus raised an eyebrow, but decided not to comment as he scooted onto his stool. "So, tell me about the upcoming match. Nervous about the Gytrashes? I've heard Gonzalas can be a bit intimidating."

"I'm not nervous. I've played him before, and anyone that pays attention to Quidditch knows Chicago sucks, so we're treating the game like a practice."

"Right, so no special preparation or anything?"

"Just the normal ritual."

"Wha's tha'?"

"I eat three boiled eggs and listen to Jimmy Buffett."

Seamus made a note, mentally wondering who in the bloody hell 'Jimmy Buffett' was. "That's very interesting. Tell me, why didn't you go into Quadpod instead of Quidditch? It's far more popular, isn't it?" Venturing to take a sip, he had to force the grimace from his face. How could this idiot call this beer! Ah well, it was never the best idea to drink while interviewing anyway.

"Yeah, but Quadpod is a pussy's sport. It's like football verses rugby, I'd much rather play rugby than wear all that padding."

Seamus had to stop himself from mentioning that shin guards weren't exactly padding, but figured out that he'd been talking about American football soon enough to shut his mouth. "I don't imagine many of your fellow countrymen agree with you."

"No, but I don't give a fuck. Americans are all dicks."

Deciding it was best not to comment, he decided to move on. "So, I noticed that you didn't do any kind of feint at the game yesterday, why was that? If you'd done the Wronski right as that other bloke was coming up on you, he'd've probably run into the ground."

Brankovitch blinked at him; then blinked again. "What are you talking about?"

"You know, a Wronksi Feint, would have got him right off you… You've not a clue as to what I'm talkin about, do you?" The increasingly perplexed look on his interviewee's face made him want to gape, but he swallowed the awful Muggle beer instead. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

A few hours later found him hunched over a glass of Ogden's at the hotel bar, staring at his notes in hopes of making something even remotely reasonable out of them. Compelling was far too much to ask, but if he could pull something not entirely boring out of it, maybe he could save his career. There was a shifting next to him and he looked up to see a gorgeous blonde sitting next to him, smiling coyly. "Hey stranger." Her soft southern lilt seeped into his skin like melted butter and went straight to his pants.

"Hi."

"You're not from here."

"Ireland. I'm here researching an article."

"Ireland? What kind of article is it?"

"American Quidditch versus European Quidditch. I'm a sports writer."

"American Quidditch? We have Quidditch? My brother played Quadpod in high school, but I've never seen a Quidditch team."

"It's on a very small scale, but it exists. Rather pointless, though, since almost no one knows how to properly play."

"We're more interested in Quadpod. If we're not interested in something, we don't bother spending time or money improving it."

Seamus rolled his eyes and took another sip of his firewhisky. "Do you like it?"

"Quidditch or Quadpod?"

"Quadpod."

"Not really, I don't pay much attention to sports."

"Feel lucky. No offense, but American sports are a bit poncy in comparison to the rest of the world. Even the Quidditch here is so below par I can't even wrap my brain 'round it. The best seeker in this country blinked at me when I asked him why he didn't do the Wronksi Feint. Every good seeker should at least know what one is, if not know how to do it. I even had kids during school what could pull it off. I don't know what I'm going to write for my article, my boss is gonna bin me." He shoulders slumped and he sighed, but he straightened back up when he felt her hand slide onto his thigh.

"You look like you've had a bad day." Her voice came out a low purr that melted his insides like candle wax.

"Horrible. This bloke I was interviewing was just… I don't even know what to say."

She leaned into him, giving him a full glance of her low-cut dress, "Well, why don't you buy me a drink and maybe I'll make your day a little better…" He watched, entranced, as her tongue slid out to slowly lick at her top lip, and a thousand better uses for that tongue came to his mind.

He grinned at her. "What would ya like?"

* * *

Sometime around three in the morning, Seamus woke to the sound of Dean's voice calling his name. At first thinking he'd dreamt it, he only moved closer to the woman he'd fallen asleep with. When he heard it again, he peeked his head over the top of the covers only to see Dean's head in the fireplace amid green flames. He scowled, but untangled himself from his bed mate, pulled on the pants earlier flung on the nightstand, and padded over to the hearthrug. "Any idea what time it is, you bastard?"

"It's eight in the morning. I wanted to make sure I caught you before you left for the day."

"No, it's eight _there_. Here it's…" He glanced at the blinking alarm clock back by the bed, "two in the morning."

"Bloody hell, I forgot! Sorry, didn't mean to wake you. I just wanted to see how things were going."

"Awful. These idiot Yanks don't know anything about playing proper Quidditch. No one is going to read my article, my boss is going to fire me, and then you'll have to hire me as your assistant because no one else will have me."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. I'll read the article."

"Yeah, you and me mam and no one else."

"You could always come back here and interview Wood. The wanker's back from Holland, or wherever he went, and he's haunting our pub. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to discuss his 'comeback' with you."

The bitterness in Dean's voice made Seamus raise an eyebrow, "Since when do you not like Wood?"

"He's a bloody womanizing wanker and I'd rather spit on him than look at him."

"All Quidditch players are wankers, it's in their contracts."

Dean chuckled, and then made a drastic subject change as his eyes leveled on the bra dangling off the side of a table. "It looks like you've had a good time anyway. Unless you've decided to wear women's lingerie, in which case we've got a whole other set of problems."

"She's sleeping. I met her in the bar. She's absolutely stunning."

"Any chance of further developments?"

"Doubt it, you know how flitty these American women are. I'm leaving in a few days, anyway, and most of that's going to be interviews with the bloody Finches and then the Gytrashes."

"Still, nice to share the evening with someone, take the edge off. Didn't you interview some idiot player today?"

"Yes, and it was a disaster. He didn't even know what a Wronksi Feint is! Harry could do that by fifth year!" There was a shuffling on the bed and he craned his neck to see if she'd woken. Satisfied that she hadn't, he turned back to his best friend with a lowered voice, "So what's got your knickers in a twist about Wood?"

Dean clenched his jaw. "We went down to the pub to meet Kurt and Ryan for drinks. Ryan and I were arguing about West Ham, as usual, and bloody Wood decides Christine isn't with any of us and buys her a drink. She was completely pissed and you know how oblivious she is to flirting when pissed, so she just kept on laughing and teasing with him until he finally tried to take her home. If I'd been two more firewhisky's in, I'd have punched him."

"I think I'd have paid to see you do it."

"I was really angry and nearly pissed, so you can't really blame me. And honestly, what happened to that wanker? He used to be nice. Now he's a pompous arse."

"It's the professional thing, most of them are arses." There was another sound of rustling sheets and a blonde head popped up, squinting in the firelight. "Sorry, love, didn't mean to wake you. Dean didn't realize England's six hours ahead. Go back to sleep."

Dean gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry, it's half past eight here. I thought I'd be just catching him leaving for the day."

"No problem, I should be going anyway." Her voice was a bit rough from sleep and she started to pull the sheet with her to get up and collect her clothing.

"Don't be daft, stay the night. I'll be to bed in a minute."

She looked awkwardly at him. "Are you sure?"

"Sure, no sense in leaving in the middle of the night. Go back to sleep." He flashed her a winning smile and, once sure she'd settled back into the comforter, faced Dean once more. "Floo you tomorrow, maybe? Get the update on how you hexed Wood into a toad?" They shared a grin and a quick farewell and Seamus slid back into bed. "Sorry about tha', Love." He rolled onto his stomach with his face turned towards her. She mumbled a reply a scooted closer to his warmth without actually cuddling in. They were both soon asleep again.

/

**Form:** 83352739

**Name:** Draco Malfoy

**Registry Number:** 625369

**Date:** 08 jun 2001

**Age:** 22

**Mate:** N/A

**Current Location:** London, England

**Number of Sexual Encounter(s):** 12

**Name(s) of Partner(s):** Franklin Norkelter 1(M), Louis Vendelezo 8(M), Mark Foster 3(M)

**Age(s) of Partner(s):** 23, 39, 34

**Species of Partner(s):** wizard, wizard, Muggle (don't even say it)

**Description of Sexual Encounter(s):** Franklin was inexperienced, and I had to top, which I hate. Louis was built like a Greek god and was so fantastic in bed, we didn't leave it for three days. I'm rather sad that he's not my mate, the sex alone would be worth his annoying prattle about house-elf rights. Mark was strong, and he pulled me into the most peculiar poses, but he knew exactly where to hit to make me melt for him.

**Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s):** Yes, with Louis.

If **so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects:** Louis used a binding spell to trap my hands against the bedposts. It's incredibly erotic not to be able to touch your partner.

**Did any encounter result in pregnancy:** I'm no longer going to bother, the answer will always be no.

**Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate:** As usual, yes

**If so, how and why:** I took my mother to the opera and the gentleman sitting next to her smelled atrocious so I used a bit of persuasion to get him to leave. Nothing wrong with that, is there?

**Comments:** You're very lucky I'm not my father. Mother tells me his ministry worker ended up dead. Just thought I'd keep you informed of that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Department of Magical Creatures Case #645369

**Author:** feltonxmalfoy

**Beta:** domtheknight

**Pairing:** DM/RW (eventually), DM/EM, DM/SF, DM/TH, DM/JFF, DM/CW, DM/multipleOMC's, RW/3OMC's, HG/OMC, BW/FD

**Chapter:** Three

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** slash, swearing, sexual acts (but no details for now)

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** At 21, Draco Malfoy is on a journey to find his life mate, but is delayed by pesky Hufflepuffs screaming 'regulations' and 'laws'. Please, Malfoys play by their own rules.

**A/N:** All review responses can be found at my livejournal (ronspigwidgeon). The link is on my author page. Thank you to all those that review!

**A/N2:** This chapter was edited and re-uploaded on 31/03/2008.

* * *

Draco sipped at his drink, tucked away in a secluded corner suited for people-watching. He hadn't shared his bed in two days and he was beginning to itch with the need for satisfaction. He tried to ignore the section of his brain that told him he would never be satisfied without his mate and went about looking at the other customers. Three caught his eyes. There was a young aristocrat sitting at the bar in black leather pants and a fitted leather jacket with wispy black hair that floated over his neck as he turned his head. Obviously Muggleborn. The thought made him turn his head, his nose wrinkling. A middle-aged man sitting in the corner across from his in business robes was reading a long parchment, completely oblivious to the rest of the room. And then there was the gentleman who just walked in the door. Tall, regal, with pure white hair lightly tousled, he was a stunning display of maturity, what Draco imagined his father might have looked like with short hair and a pulse. An attendant hurried to his side to take his jacket and enquire after his health. The gentleman answered in a murmur as his attention strayed across the room, surveying its occupants. His eyes fell on Draco, who gave him a quick glance over and a coy smile. The look was as good as an invitation and the gentleman headed over. Draco stood to meet him, extending his hand in greeting. "Leopold Mesden III at your service." The man leaned down to kiss the proffered hand, making the blond smile in appreciation.

"Draco Malfoy. It is a pleasure to meet you."

A flash of pure delight passed across the aristocrat's face as they sat and he leaned in to speak with more intimacy. "Draco Malfoy? Really? You wouldn't happen to be the son of Lucius Malfoy, would you?"

Draco turned his eyes to his drink and tried to hide his discomfort at the mention of his father. "Yes, Lucius was my father. Did you know him?"

"I played billiards with him on several occasions. He was a lovely man."

"I can honestly say that I have never heard my father referred to as 'lovely' by anyone other than my mother, who is hopelessly devoted to him and his memory. My father was a ruthless, cruel man and there's no need to brighten his memory for the sake of politeness."

A glint of something unrecognizable passed over Mesden's eyes as he surveyed his companion. "You did not like your father?"

"I did not dislike him, I disagreed with him. Malfoys are neutral in political matters; it is how we remain in such high standing with the Ministry. He should not have made an alliance with either side and especially not with the side destined to lose. It will take me quite some time to regain a prominent position for my family."

"Well, I truly thought him lovely, regardless of his political views. He was stunning, as are you."

It was then that Draco's annoyance faded away into understanding of what the man was fumbling to say. "Thank you. That is very kind of you to say."

"Only the truth. You glow."

A sly smile crept onto his lips as he lifted his glass for a sip. "I'm beginning to like you, all these compliments. You threaten to over-exert my ego."

"With due right. How is it that I've missed such a beauty? Surely you've not been here before."

"I have, but not often. I don't tend to stay in one place for long."

"And why is that?"

Draco paused to survey the aristocrat, not sure he wanted to explain his veela tendencies. If they were mated, then he'd be more than happy to inform him, but as the state of their relationship was still unknown, he thought it best to leave him in the dark. "You'll never meet anyone new if you remain in the same place, will you?"

"I suppose not. That is an excellent philosophy." He raised his glass to it and they slipped into a comfortable silence until Draco became bored with watching the other patrons.

"If you associated with my father, I can only assume that you are well off. What is your business?"

"I own nearly every building in Mayfair and rent them out to various businesses."

"Mayfair? Really? You must have been friendly with Him, then. It wasn't even touched."

Leopold smirked and took a sip of his drink, "I knew your father, didn't I?"

"I suppose."

"You know, you do look a great deal like him."

Draco looked away, distracted and trying his best not to be irritated at the repeated mention of his likeness to his parent. "I'd prefer to leave the subject of my father alone, please."

Leopold nodded in acknowledgement and the subject was never mentioned again. Several hours later, Draco found himself in the sitting room of Mesden Manor. Leopold indicated the sofa as he passed to the bar to prepare their drinks. Draco slipped into a seat and looked about him at the elegant décor of the sitting room. "You have an absolutely beautiful home, Leopold. Are you here often enough to enjoy it?"

He was handed a drink as the man sat beside him. "I try to be here as often as I can, but it isn't nearly often enough. Would you like to spend time here?"

Draco sipped at his drink and moved a fraction closer to Leopold. "I would love to spend time here."

The aristocrat's eyes glazed just a bit and he seemed transfixed as he cupped Draco's face. "You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen." The blond smiled as fingers moved through his hair and leaned in to press their lips together. Drinks set aside, what was first soft and innocent quickly turned to passion, and Draco slid into his companion's lap with a moan. A hand smoothed over his lower back beneath his dress shirt and before he realised it, he was being lifted up and taken into the bedroom, the door shutting firmly behind them of its own accord.

* * *

Draco lay sprawled across the bed, pleased in feeling absolutely boneless. Leopold's lips were trailing up his stomach, stopping occasionally to release his tongue for air. Draco suddenly wished all his conquests were as devoted and wondered that he hadn't made them be. He let out a quiet coo of pleasure as his lover wandered to a particularly sensitive area and squirmed in appreciation.

"You are perfect, flawless. How could anyone deny you?"

"No one has."

"Then how in Heaven are you not already taken?"

Draco looked down on him with a soft, sad smile and brushed loose fringe from his forehead. "Haven't found my soul mate yet and I'll never be content without him."

He received a coy smile in return. "I never would have pinned you for the romantic type."

The irony of the statement made Draco secretly smile and look up at the ceiling, knowing that it was less romanticism and more necessity, but Leopold needn't know that. "You'd be surprised."

"Have you never been in love?"

Draco snorted and looked down, grinning, at him. "No, have you?"

"I'm in love right now." The grin faded and he instantly stopped releasing pheromones as he had been for the entirety of their encounter. Love did funny things to his lovers, especially to those he knew not to be the One. "Come away with me. We'll have a lovely weekend at my villa in Valencia. It overlooks the ruins and the view is spectacular."

Funny things, indeed. This was not a good idea. He would not cancel his visit with Mother on Sunday and lovers rarely allowed him to leave without at least a minimal fight. "I don't know if that's a very good idea…"

Leopold instantly went about trying to convince him with strategic kisses and long caresses. Those hands were excellent negotiators. "You simply must. There's no argument. It will be fantastic. We can sit on the balcony and drink horchata, make love until noon. I'd worship you. How could you say no?"

Well, Spain had been lovely the last time he'd been, and he'd never actually been to Valencia. A few days couldn't hurt, and he could always leave discretely if need be. And he did dearly love to be worshiped… He let out a long moan and pulled Leopold's face up for a sensuous kiss that left them both trembling with need. "Only if I may leave on Sunday. I have afternoon tea with my mother which I can absolutely not miss."

"As long as you promise not to be gone permanently." Draco shook his head, too focused on manoeuvring his legs around Leopold's waist to care about lying. Not that he'd mind otherwise. "Lovely, we'll leave in the morning."

"Mmm, whatever you like. As long as you'll fuck me now." Leopold needed no further encouragement.

* * *

They had not left the bed for over a day and the sun was just reaching noon as Draco decided to venture out. He carefully extracted himself from Leopold's arms and slid out of bed. Leopold only made the slightest of protests, being fast asleep, and rolled over. The bay window overlooking Sagunto provided a spectacular view of the ancient ruins, the broken steps glistening from the angle of the sun shining down on them. Leaning his forehead against the window, he let his mind wander into distraction. What was today? Sunday. He needed to leave; otherwise he'd be late in meeting Mother. He made a glance back at the bed, covered in silky, white linens and more pillows than were strictly necessary. Leopold looked near falling off the edge, the sheet barely covering him and his nose buried in Draco's pillow. Could he leave without saying goodbye? Sighing, he turned back to the view. He had had a wonderful time with the aristocrat. He was gentle and loving in his caress, and he always considered Draco above himself, something that Draco absolutely adored in a lover. But, despite the wonderful sex and the beautiful scenery, Leopold wasn't his mate, and the longer he stood at the window, the more insistent became the voice in his head telling him it was time to leave.

So distracted was he with his own thoughts that he didn't hear the rustle of sheets and was mildly surprised when arms slid around his waist and lips pressed into his shoulder. "I told you the view was spectacular, didn't I?"

He nodded, not turning away from the window. "I should leave. Mother will be waiting."

"Must you?"

"I can't cancel with her, she depends on me. I told you I would only come if I could leave today."

"I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you skipped a week. Everyone gets busy."

"No, I told her I'd be there and I've yet to cancel our tea since I left home."

"There's a first time for everything. Your mother seems a bit clingy if you ask me. You're a grown man. It isn't natural to be under your mother's thumb."

The voice cried out in indignation and Draco pulled away in complete agreement with it. "My mother is sick, very sick. I am the only reason she doesn't waste away into nothing. I'm not going to abandon her, and especially not for a shag." Too upset at the slight upon his mother to care about hygiene, he wandlessly called his belongings and quickly began to dress.

In a panic, Leopold hurried to right the situation. "I'm sorry, Love. I didn't mean it. Of course you've got to see your mother. I was just being selfish. Please don't leave angry. We can sort this out. Please, Love…" Draco apparated to continued pleading and smiled to himself as he entered the international portkey office in Madrid. That was a lot easier than he had anticipated.

* * *

Coming to see Mother was the highlight of the week, not because of his mother, though he loved seeing her, but because for the first time in his life the house elves were excited to see him. His mother, normally docile and vacant, became animated at his entrance into the room and it delighted them to see her happy. When he was a child, his father had influenced him to be unkind to the house elves, but now that he was older and out from under his father's thumb, he'd learnt to appreciate their loyalty and hard work. Entering the Manor that afternoon brought him three grinning elves all eager to be the first to take his cloak. "Afternoon. How is Mother today?" He suppressed a laugh as all three began to talk at once, but turned to the head elf. "Barneby?"

The elf rose up proudly at the address, but then his face turned grave. "Mistress is not doing well, Master Draco. Weena is always being at her side, but Mistress would do much better if Master were still being here."

"Yes, well, we can not bring Father back from the dead, now can we? Have you been adding the potion to her tea as the doctor asked?"

"Yes, Master Draco."

"Good, thank you." He turned to go to the conservatory where he knew his mother would be, but stopped when he saw the elf's ears lower. "What is it?" The elf mumbled something. Irritated, he crossed his arms over his chest. "I didn't quite catch that; you'll have to speak up."

His ears lowered further. "Mistress won't drink the tea. Barneby puts the potion in the tea like Master Draco asks, but Mistress won't drink it. Barneby is not knowing what to do, Master Draco. Weena is not being able to make Mistress drink, but Mistress will whither away and die without it."

Sighing, he rubbed at the bridge of his nose and squinted his eyes shut. He knew this would happen as he began his search. It was really only a matter of time before she gave up. "Thank you for telling me, Barneby. We'll have to call the medi-wizard and schedule another consultation. In the meantime, I will try to speak with her." With a calming breath, he went to his mother, Weena following behind him.

Sitting alone on the settee, her hair surrounding her ashen face, she looked small and fragile. Her natural glow was entirely gone and was replaced by a fog of maudlin despair. Like many half and full-blooded veela widowed by war or disease, her only buoy in this world was the weekly visits of her beloved son. As her senses became aware of his presence, she hurried to enfold him in her arms. She kissed his cheeks and his forehead and held him for a little longer than was strictly necessary, and he could not help the sad smile that slid onto his face.

"How are you, Mother?" he asked as they sat on the settee together.

"I'm perfectly wonderful, Darling, now that you've come to see me. How have you been? Have you found the one you've been looking for yet?"

"No, not quite, but I won't give in this easily. He's out there, I know he is." She only smiled and handed him a freshly poured cup of tea. It did not escape his notice that she ignored her own cup, but he was not quite ready to breech the subject yet. "Mother, why did you not tell me that there were forms necessary to send the ministry? Personal forms."

"Personal forms…?" She raised a curious brow before a light of recognition sprung to her eyes. "I'd almost forgotten about them, dear. The form changes when you find your mate and settle down. It changes again when you have children, and then once more if your mate… well, if something happens to him."

"But you did have to fill one out before?"

"Yes, but that was quite a long time ago. I came into maturity at about fourteen and I knew within the first week of that year's schooling that my mate was your father. Most of the… sexual questions were left alone until I was older, and by that time, we were already preparing to settle here."

"You knew that Father was your mate at fourteen?" He raised his eyebrows. His mother had never told him this story before. But then, she hadn't really breached the subject of their veela heritage since he was in his early teens, too busy with concerns of the war and the Dark Lord. By the time the business of war had been eliminated, Lucius was dead and Narcissa was in no fit state to discuss anything involving veelas or mates or anything of the sort. Her open discussion of the subject now lightened Draco's heart just a little, despite the business of her untouched tea cup.

"Yes, but that does not mean that your father and I were mated then. You have to keep in mind that I was a fourteen-year-old girl and your father was a seventeen-year-old young man who still hadn't come into his own quite yet. I didn't know how to tell him and have him believe me. With all the girls floating around him vying for his attention, he'd have thought I was just after his money. So I waited until my seventh year during the Easter holiday. I'd heard from Mother that Bella had fallen under Lucius' wiles and knew it was time, so Mother arranged an audience and your father didn't even enter the room before he knew. We were married within three months of my finishing school and had you almost two years later.""He was attracted to Aunt Bella first?"

"Only because her close proximity to me gave her a hint of my scent. Nothing came of it, though. Bella may have been inclined, but she already knew that Lucius was to be mated to me and, despite her numerous faults, she would not have dishonored herself so much as to cross me."

"But I thought Aunt Bella wasn't a veela."

"She isn't, neither is Andromeda."

"But then, how are you…?" He'd always wondered how his mother had got Veela genes if neither of her parents did and, given his mother's open mood, he thought it was time she enlightened him.

"Have you ever noticed that my sisters and I have very different personalities and appearances?" Draco nodded, brows furrowing in concentration. "Well, there is a very good reason for that. It is not spoken of much, but my father was married three times. Bella's mother was his betrothed, as is tradition for the pureblood families that are not as lucky as we are to possess other means of obtaining a life partner. I am told that they were married for three years before they conceived Bella. Due to complications, the woman died in childbirth, leaving my father alone with a baby girl. If Bella had been male, he mightn't have re-married. As it was, family tradition required him to produce an heir, and so he married Andromeda's mother only months after his first wife's death. After three years of marriage, two pregnancies, and only one of those producing a child, a girl, Father became frustrated and had the woman killed." She paused, a darker look passing over her eyes as she refilled Draco's teacup, her own still remaining untouched. "Andromeda never forgave him when she found out, and I believe it was her reason for marrying that… that muggle." A moment of silence passed as both said a silent prayer of forgiveness to the pureblood gods for having a muggle somehow related to them. Then Narcissa shook her head slightly and smiled at her son. "We're getting off topic. After Father had Andromeda's mother killed, he was left with two girls to take care of and still no heir. He hired a nursemaid to care for the children, not trusting the house elves to do it properly, and the woman he chose just happened to be a veela who had lost her mate in an accident. Seeing the advantage for herself in marrying, she used her charms to seduce Father and they were soon married. I was born two years later."

There was another pause in conversation as Draco took in all that he had been told. The only sounds were of the birds twittering about in the rosebushes on the other side of the window glass. Draco watched them chattering as he thought before turning to his mother, who was studying her hands folded in her lap. "Is that why Aunt Bella went mad in the end? Because her mother died having her?" There was an old wives' tale among wizarding families that a child whose mother did not survive his or her entrance into the world was doomed to eventually go mad and Draco had always wondered about his Aunt Bella.

"No, she went mad because she fell in with that… that man." A shudder went through her and her voice dripped with venom. Knowing that discussing Voldemort would only upset his mother further than her condition already had, he decided to change the subject.

"Is there anything wrong with your tea, Mother? You've not had one sip. Should I speak with Weena?" The little elf, who had spent the entire conversation standing near the settee watching Narcissa for any sign that she might need assistance, looked frightened at the idea of needing to be spoken with about her mistress' tea.

Narcissa's forehead wrinkled in that way that it used to when she was angry with Lucius for scolding Draco about letting Harry Potter best him in Quidditch. "Yes, tell her I don't want that potion put into it anymore."

"Now, Mother, the doctor said that the potion is necessary. You are ill and if you do not take the potion it will only get worse."

"I don't have a condition. I've lost my mate, there's no helping it with potions or charms. Lucius is not coming back and I doubt very much that I will ever find another that suits me quite as well as he did."

"The potion will never make everything all right again, but it will help you. I can't stand to watch you waste away into death. Father made terrible choices and aligned himself with the wrong people. Do not let his mistakes deprive you, your son, or your future grandchildren the privilege of your life."

The look of distaste turned to ice and her fingernails pierced the porcelain skin of her palms. "Do not ever speak of your father in such a manner again. I will not allow you to disrespect his memory by mentioning his unfortunate alliances."

Draco looked down, fiddling with his tea cup. "I apologize, Mother. I should have paid closer mind to what I was saying."

She sniffed and spread her fingers out across her lap. "Yes, well, perhaps I shall forgive you this once, but see that this incident does not repeat itself." There was a silence that lasted until Weena interrupted with a stuttering request to bring more tea. Draco left an hour later, feeling slightly down-trodden.

* * *

Draco enjoyed losing himself in a crowd of gorgeous, writhing, young wizards, but could only spare himself the pleasure very occasionally. Though the men at _Péché_ were all toned, tanned, and well-suited for rubbing one's hot body against, the sweating was displeasing and, despite his sex, dancing in public was still slightly dangerous to his health. That did not stop him from losing himself on the dance floor with two or three strong sets of hands roaming his flesh and a decidedly canine body pressed up against his back. He leaned his head back against the young man's shoulder and stretched on hand back to tangle in wild, brown locks. "You aren't all human, are you?" he whispered silkily, allowing his magic to swirl around them.

The werewolf's lips brushed his ear. "No, but neither are you."

"Do you think the Ministry would fault me for taking in a stray that just happened to follow me home?" Draco knew that MacMillan would kill him for even considering allowing a werewolf into his bed, but the wolf's counselor would leave him relatively alone. Werewolves were monitored much more strictly than veela, but in regards to sexual activity were left fairly uncensored as long as they maintained proper sterility charms. The Ministry knew that there was no way to stopper the libido of a wolf, especially near the full moon. With the full moon just days away, having such knowledge only further intensified Draco's determination to bed the man clinging to his hips.

There was a feral growl and he was pulled in ever closer to the obvious excitement of his target. "I don't think I bloody care what the Ministry will say. Just tell me where I'm apparating." After a few whispered words, they were both standing at the door to Draco's loft. The wolf had him naked before they even reached the kitchen and was so impatient that Draco found himself bent over the kitchen counter.

By daybreak they'd managed to find the bed, but several bar stools were overturned, the contents of the coffee table were scattered across the floor, and everything reeked of sex. The werewolf lay sprawled across the bed, only slightly covered by the sheet, his eyes closed. Draco sat with his back leant against the other's bent knee, a manila folder on his lap and a self-inking quill in his hand. There was a self-satisfied smirk on Draco's thoroughly swollen lips. "Name again? Full name this time and none of that nickname rubbish. I can only imagine the floo if MacMillan reads 'Wolfie' on my next report."

"Bardell Stiggens."

"Exact species?"

"Lycanthropos."

"Age?"

"Nineteen."

Draco's eyes rose to his face in surprise. "Really? I'd thought you older." He shrugged it off in a distracted manner. "What was that lubrication spell you used? It felt brilliant." The wolf's eyes opened to smile coyly at him as he reached for his wand and performed the spell in question again. Draco smirked and squirmed in a pleasant manner, but the expression faded as soon as a calloused hand smoothed against his lower back. He turned back to his parchment. There were voices whispering in his head that this felt wrong and they were making him uncomfortable.

Impatient, the wolf pulled at his arm. "Come here. You can finish that later. We should make use of my brilliant spell."

Blatantly ignoring the warnings that had increased to fervent murmurs, Draco slid into Bardell's lap, doing his best to focus on his own lust and the tongue now taking possession of his mouth. Rough fingertips trailed down the curve of his spine to toy with the crease of his cheeks. A single finger entered.

The murmurs quickly turned to shouted alarms that made Draco pull sharply from his grasp and scramble to the end of the bed, eyes narrowed. "Perhaps another time. I'm to send this in the morning, and as it is already nearly light, I think perhaps it would be better for you to leave."

Stiggens only smirked, eyes glittering with vicious amusement. "Silly veela, you can't get rid of me that quickly. We have unfinished business. I never perform that spell without putting it to good use."

Draco remained concrete in his refusal, quickly taking hold of his wand, which had been tossed to the end of the bed sometime between reaching it and the end of their sexual escapades. "You are decidedly not my mate and I would appreciate your leaving my home immediately. I have faced Greyback and survived and do not fear anything that you could do."

Stiggens moved nonchalantly onto his knees and crawled slowly to the blond who was inwardly shaking, though his wand remained steady. "You underestimate me. Greyback was my sire. He raised me as a part of his pack." He allowed a hand to caress the interior of Draco's thigh as he advanced, eyes never straying from his face.

The hairs on the back of Draco's neck stood on end at the touch and he sneered, gripping his wand tighter. As the pad of a thumb brushed his hip bone, his mind began to shriek and he did the only thing he could think of. "Stupefy!" The werewolf froze exactly in place. Heart thumping nearly out of his chest, Draco quickly moved out from under him and to the other side of the room, snatching a pillow up to cover himself. "Tinker?" His voice came out small and almost shaking, memories of matted grey hair, yellow, jagged fingernails, and the smell of blood flashing before his eyes. The tiny elf appeared before him, looking meek, but not frightened of his master. "Tinker, please remove that… that thing from this flat." The elf looked from his master to the frozen figure on the bed and back again.

"Where is Master wanting Tinker to take him, sir?"

Still slightly shaken and angry with himself for being so, he turned away and began to dress. "I don't care, just remove him. Somewhere far away from here. And put a memory charm on him. Make him think that he left on his own. Twenty minutes should be sufficient." Tinker nodded and soon disappeared with the wolf, not to be seen again until needed. Draco stopped in his dressing, turning to look blankly at the bed for several minutes, the silence in the room almost deafening. With a shake of his head, he went into the bathroom and drew his own bath and was soon submerged in steaming, hot water, not to be seen again for several hours.

* * *

**Form:** 83352739

**Name:** Draco MalfoyRegistry Number: 625369

**Date:** 03/07/2001

**Age: **22

**Mate:** N/A

**Current Location:** London, England

**Number of Sexual Encounter(s):** 25

**Name(s) of Partner(s):** Rafer Weigel 1(M), Leopold Mesden III 4(M), Bardell Stiggens 20(M)

**Age(s) of Partner(s):** 25, 47, 19

**Species of Partner(s):** Werewolf (And I'd like to see you do something about it), Wizard, Wizard

**Description of Sexual Encounter(s):** Rafer was rather dull. Nothing bad, as you know that I do not have bad sexual experiences, but not in any way very creative. Leopold was marvellous. He treated me like some form of king or god, swept me away to this villa in Valencia that was absolutely breath-taking, and worshiped my body for an entire weekend. Stiggens was a fantastic fuck. We barely even made it to the bed, he was an animal, literally, and he had this delightful little lubrication spell that made my bum feel so highly sensitive that I could hardly stand it. Of course, he is most definitely not my mate and was rather… offended when I told him to leave, thus ruining my good time. Bastard. May we have him castrated?

**Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s):** Yes

**If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects:** Stiggens used a lubrication spell called _madidus_ that was fantastic and is highly recommended.

**Did any encounter result in pregnancy:**

**Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate:** Yes

**If so, how and why:** I tried to use it to get Stiggens to leave, but alas, he was impervious to my wiles.

**Comments:** I have two queries: 1. Is it natural for my body to scream at me when someone that is not my mate touches me in a sexual manner? Even after I have already spent the night shagging with them? 2. Why do werewolves not respond to my magic?

* * *

Tired with watching the bartender, Draco turned his head to the left and immediately regretted the action as he was accosted by the site of messy locks and a surly disposition. ''Potter."

"Malfoy."

''To what do I owe this... pleasure?" His eyes roamed the dishevelled appearance of the Wizarding World's Savior and wondered vaguely if he'd have been allowed into the club on anything other than hero worship. Potter slid onto the stool next to him without an invitation.

"I heard you've been making some new friends lately. Some werewolves."

"It was only ever the one and I only slept with him to aggravate MacMillan. Did he send you here to have a 'talk' with me?"

"No, my boss did."

"And why is it any of the aurors' concern?"

"Because, as you very well know, it's illegal for you to sleep with any creature that is not a wizard or another veela. You're being put on probation until further notice."

"Don't worry; I've no intention of ever even considering sleeping with another werewolf again. He was much too forceful."

Concern clouded Harry's features and he leaned into Draco's side, lowering his voice. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Draco shook his head, sighing to himself. A bloke doesn't personally kill the Headmaster once and he's getting concerned puppy eyes every time they meet from then on. "No, but he threatened me when I told him to leave. It was stupid and dangerous on my part."

Harry laid a hand on Draco's shoulder and massaged it a little. "I'm glad he didn't hurt you, even though you were being a prat and should have known better."

Draco nodded his thanks, but cocked an eyebrow when the hand didn't move. "Potter, you aren't my mate, you can stop touching me now."

Harry gave him a bemused smile before moving the hand to his own knee. "Sorry, Ron says I've become overly affectionate lately. Something about needing to get laid."

"Weasley managed a four-syllable word?" Harry only glared in response and ordered a cup of tea. They sat in silence for a long time afterwards.

"Will you be more careful with your bed partners from now on?"

"Yes, sir." Harry only rolled his eyes at the formal address while Draco finished his drink. "Does this probation period prohibit me from leaving the country?"

"No, why? Are you planning to?"

"I think I may go to America for a little while. Maybe I'm not finding who I'm looking for here because he isn't in Britain."

"Where would you go, then? I don't know anything about America."

"I don't, either. My travel agent can settle that for me, though. Is it necessary to tell you or MacMillan where I go beforehand?" He turned to Harry, face showing a mixture of worry and annoyance that made Harry smile.

"Not unless you have something worked out with Ernie that I don't know about. The Aurors are only concerned with who you sleep with, not where you go to do it. Avoid other species and we won't have to speak again. Unless of course you need me on unofficial business. You know I'm always available to help." And there was the bloody sympathy again. It almost made him wish he'd killed the sodding Headmaster and been done with it.

He waved Harry off with a wrinkle of his nose. "Yes, yes, of course. Always have to go about saving people, don't you? I'm fine, Potter. I won't make the same mistake twice."

"Good."

* * *

Ernest MacMillan

Ministry of Magic

Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures

Level 4

Dear Mr. Malfoy:

In response to your inquiries it becomes necessary for me to once more inform you of the reasons that it is illegal for a veela to breed with anyone outside of their own and the wizarding species. Veela are forbidden from fornicating with other species because if the breeding is successful, a new (and probably highly dangerous) creature will be created. A werewolf with the ability to seduce victims in the same manner as a veela would be an _uncontrollable menace to society_. Also, not mentioned previously, but apparently pertinent in view of my conversation with Auror Potter, werewolves are extremely dangerous when aroused and have been known to react violently when rejected by a lover, especially when near or in the act of fornication. Though you failed to do so, Auror Potter has informed me of the circumstances surrounding your interaction with a Bardell Stiggens. The werewolf in question will be properly prosecuted, pending your consent and cooperation. Please be more careful when choosing a bed mate. I have already informed you that werewolves are not eligible to mate with veela. Please do not make another attempt or I will be forced to have you taken into custody. And no, you will not be able to get out of the situation with a few well-placed donations, so please refrain from attempting.

As to the questions you posed in your comments, it is entirely natural for your body to reject the touch of someone known to not be your mate. The situation is more than likely aggravated when that person is a _savage werewolf that has the capability of seriously injuring or even killing you_. I can not stress enough the gravity of you attempting ever again to bed a werewolf. Veela/werewolf relations are rare, but in a good portion of the reported cases, the veela has been either critically injured or killed upon refusal to continue sexual activity. Werewolves are immune to your hormones because they are ineligible to mate with you, although your hormones do not leave them unaffected. The magic that you give off arouses them to a state of frenzy when it is directed towards them and can often make them homicidal if they are not satisfied. For the last time, DO NOT ATTEMPT TO SEDUCE A WEREWOLF EVER AGAIN.

I am only trying to keep you safe, Malfoy, as is Auror Potter. It is our jobs to protect you, even if you do not think you need it. Please take heed of our advice. I do not want to see the word 'werewolf' in a report of yours ever again.

Respectfully,

Ernest MacMillan

Breeding Counselor

Ministry of Magic

E.M.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Department of Magical Creatures Case #645369  
**Author:** feltonxmalfoy  
**Beta:** domtheknight

**Pairing:** DM/RW (eventually), DM/EM, DM/SF, DM/TH, DM/JFF, DM/CW, DM/multipleOMC's, RW/3OMC's, HG/OMC, BW/FD

**Chapter:** Four  
**Rating:** M  
**Warnings:** slash, swearing, sexual acts (but no details for now)  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**Summary:** At 21, Draco Malfoy is on a journey to find his life mate, but is delayed by pesky Hufflepuffs screaming 'regulations' and 'laws'. Please, Malfoys play by their own rules.

**A/N:** All review responses can be found at my livejournal (ronspigwidgeon). The link is on my author page. Thank you to all those that review!

**A/N2:** This chapter was edited and re-uploaded on 31/03/2008.

* * *

The sun was beating down on his hat, blinding him every so often when a flash slipped through one of the tiny holes at just the right angle. There were blisters on his fingers from rubbing constantly against the rubber handles of the sand baskets as he helped with the work line. He imagined things were much cooler down below with Bill and Raleigh, but he hadn't seen his brother or his assistant in at least three hours. He tried honing in on the conversation going on next to him, knowing that the faster he caught onto the language, the easier life was going to be.

"Mr. Ron! Mr. Ron! Mr. Bill asks to you!" a young Egyptian boy exclaimed as he came hurtling towards Ron. Ron looked from the person to his right to the person on his left. They nodded and passed the next basket between each other. Ron brushed off his hands and followed the boy, thanking God that he was being granted relief from the sun. The boy led him down the broken fragments of steps leading to the burial chambers of the degenerated pyramid, the sun slowly disappearing as they descended. He lit the tip of his wand once they'd passed into the dark and smiled to himself as the boy led him through several passages to the temple portion of the tomb. He had been right, it was cooler below.

"Oi, Ron! Come here, I want you to see this!" Bill's voice sounded excited in the way it only ever got during a major discovery. He surpassed the boy and jogged down the corridor to meet his brother and Raleigh, both standing at the back wall.

"What are you so excited about?" he asked, glancing around at the walls all covered in hieroglyphics.

"You see this, here?" He pointed to a large mural on the wall they were facing, depicting what looked to Ron like Ra, the Egyptian god of the sunlight, sitting on a throne while Egyptians queued to present him with offerings. The bottom of the pictograph was lined with Egyptians on their knees, apparently worshipping him.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "All right, it's Ra. This guy obviously had a thing for him. Why the excitement?"

Bill and Raleigh both looked at him as though he'd sprouted feathers. "Ron! Look at it! What looks off to you?"

Doing as he was told, he turned back to re-examine. It took him a few minutes of analyzing to see the peculiarity. About a minute into his scrutinizing a strange image replaced that of the queue of offerings. A pharaoh approached the throne and attacked Ra with a glowing dagger. The line below it that had been of more people queuing for offerings merged into a duplicate of the scene above it, only Ra was no longer on the throne, but on the ground, and it appeared that he was dead. Ron stood back, eyebrows nearing his hairline.

"Since when has there been a legend about Ra's death?"

Bill's excitement seemed to grow with his words and he clapped him on the shoulder. "Exactly. Do you know what this could mean?"

"No?"

His brother rolled his eyes in frustration. "If Ra could be killed, then that would mean that he would first have to be mortal."

"Which means a body," piped in Raleigh, also glowing with excitement.

"Which means a tomb. That we can possibly find."

"And others. Look at this, here. You know who that is, right?" Raleigh was pointing at the protruding bottom of the murderous pharaoh, but Ron didn't know, so he remained quiet. Bill did, though, and his eyes widened with recognition.

"Fuck, that makes so much sense! Of course, if the gods were alive, then he'd have to get rid of all the suns to make sure that Aten became the supreme god."

"I wonder what made him do it, though. Whatever they were, they had to be incredibly powerful."

"Practically impossible to kill, I bet."

"Maybe it was Aten's idea. Help me to supreme glory and I'll reward you heavily." Ron continued to listen to their propositions attentively, but he hadn't acquired the kind of knowledge they had about Egyptian history in his year of working with them, and he'd already lost the plot.

* * *

Date: Thursday, 16 August, 2001

To: Turtingtoll Mordonfus Kellgorotk

Head of Egyptian Excavation Committee

Gringotts Bank

From: Raleigh Rutherford Rookwood

Assistant Curse Breaker

Gringotts Bank

The team of William Weasley requests permission to move excavation to the Nefertari tomb in the Valley of the Queens due to a possible significant discovery. Evidence has been found that indicates the possibility of burial grounds for Ra, Egyptian god of the sun. It is necessary to further confirm at the Nefertari site in order to determine the nature of the Djedefre find.

Enclosed are photographs of the evidence found in the Djedefre tomb. The team will continue to investigate until permission to relocate has been given, but immediate response is necessary.

* * *

Ron was humming to himself as he walked home from the apparition point, extremely pleased and impatient to tell his lover about his wonderful day. After chatting amongst themselves for well over an hour, they'd finally noticed Ron's bemused look and endeavoured to explain what they had been talking about. Once things began to make a little more sense, they got to work examining the pictograph for any clues as to where the god might have been buried and who had constructed the mural. Since the paint and charms used to create it were only invented centuries later, it was obvious that the pictogram was a later edition to the tomb.

When Ron entered his home, the flat was filled with the sounds of Latin music, he wasn't sure which kind. Forten had been adamant that they take salsa lessons while they were on holiday in Cuba, but he'd never been very good at leading and generally tried to avoid the subject of practicing. Even if Forten's height hadn't stopped him from leading, as he'd wanted to, Ron still suspected he'd have avoided the subject. Apparently, he wasn't as good at avoiding subjects as he had first thought because there was Forten swaying right up to him, taking his bag from him, and pulling him into a dance.

The blond didn't seem to mind that his leading left much to be desired, as he was a bit lost to the music. "How was your day?" he asked as he manoeuvred them into a contorted position that had Ron completely at a loss as to how they were to get out of it.

"Excellent, Bill and Raleigh found something that could mean a major discovery."

"Really?" They were out of the previous position and swaying back and forth, so close that air could not pass between them, and Forten was looking up at him with such intense interest that it made Ron forget what he was saying. Instead, he leaned down to kiss him, pulling him in tighter. The blond grinned against his mouth, letting the hand not clasped in his trail up his shoulder to play with his hair. It was a good kiss, one of those intense, dizzying types of kisses that left one slightly shaky and seeing flashes of coloured dots in front of one's eyes, but it only lasted until Ron's inability to keep the beat caught up with him and he tripped right over his own foot, setting them both off balance. They toppled over the couch with Forten on top, giggling as he pulled away from him to bury his nose in his chest.

Ron sighed and ran his fingertips along his lover's spine. "Right, so I'm not a dancer."

"Mmm, not at all. But we'll work on it. Tell me about this major discovery." Forten sat up a little, pecking his lips before concentrating on removing his button-down.

"Well, you know how we're working at Abu Rawash?" There was a nod as the blond moved to push the fabric from his shoulders. He leaned up in assistance. "Well, it's the first time wizards have been to the Djedefre Pyramid. The muggles never really paid attention to it because he was a minor pharaoh and there's not a lot of documentation about him. Besides, most of the chambers were heavily hidden by magic. The muggles just think the pyramid is an empty shell, basically, because they can't see the entrance. Anyway, Bill and Raleigh got in pretty easily and found this chamber in the temple that..." He paused to lift up so that Forten could tug his trousers off, which left them both in just their pants. "That has this pictograph of the god, Ra, being worshiped by his followers. That's not unusual, but the part that is, is that if you look at it long enough, the scene changes to one where he's murdered by a pharaoh. Bill and Raleigh think it's this one bloke that, as far as the muggles are concerned, basically attempted to remove him and all the other sun gods from worship in favour of this one called Aten."

"How can an immortal be murdered?" Forten was making sure that every millimetre of Ron's neck and chest were thoroughly kissed, licked, and nibbled, but paused long enough to look up at him with raised eyebrows. It pleased Ron to know that, distracting as he was, he was still listening, and he leaned down to kiss him briefly before relaxing back against the sofa cushions.

"Exactly. That's what we've got to suss out now. There are a few mythologies that have the gods killing each other, like Set and Osiris, but they're rare and Bill thinks they might fit with his new theory. He thinks the gods weren't really 'gods', but instead were highly magical creatures with powers to control certain aspects of human existence, like the sun or rain or death or the river, kind of like phoenixes with fire. If that's true, then they all died off and maybe were buried and we could maybe find their burial grounds.

"The weird thing was that the spells used to conceal the chambers weren't used until the Fifteenth Dynasty and he died during the Fourth. So we're going to do some more examinations tomorrow and see if maybe there's a clue to who put them there, since obviously the people that buried him couldn't have."

"Does that mean an early night, tonight?"

"Probably, although if you keep doing that thing with your tongue you might convince me to stay up." He groaned and laced his fingers through his love's hair, tugging lightly to indicate his pleasure. He felt the grin against his stomach as Forten moved further down.

* * *

He lay in bed that night with his nose buried in his lover's soft curls, breathing in his scent and feeling incredibly content. Forten moved closer into the crook of his hip and entwined their fingers. Smiling to himself, he leaned down to kiss the nape of his neck, earning a mewling sound of pleasure. "I love you."

Forten twisted in his arms with a sly grin. "Prove it."

Ron gave an answering growl and promptly pounced on him, taking his mouth prisoner as he rolled them over. The blond did not hesitate to return the kiss, wrapping his arms around him as he settled between his legs. Soon they were moving in rhythm, both moaning and clinging, and Ron kissing up his neck in slow movements, leaving occasional marks to be spelled away later. A sudden thought hit him out of nowhere and he was saying it before he had a chance to forget it again. "Just so you know, Harry's coming for the weekend."

"Harry Potter?" the blond panted back, suddenly not as distracted by their activities as he had been.

"Yeah, is that all right?"

Forten's response was a loud moan. His eyes glistened, whether from the knowledge that Harry Potter was coming tomorrow or because Ron had finally reached the spot he had been looking for, he wasn't sure, but Forten was pulling him up for a kiss a moment later and he completely forgot the question.

* * *

"What if he hates me? Are you sure I should wear this? What if he takes one look at me, thinks 'freak', and leaves?" Forten had been going on in such a manner for a good forty-five minutes, sporadically jumping up to change again. He'd gone through at least six outfits. Ron was considering homicide.

"Relax, it's just Harry. He'll like you. Don't worry."

Forten's eyes held a glassy, incredulous look at his lover's nonchalance. "It isn't 'just Harry'! It's Harry Potter, the Chosen One. He saved us from eternal doom."

There was a chuckle from behind them. "Correction, I saved my own arse from eternal doom. Helping everyone else was just kind of a bonus."

Ron looked up, shocked to see Harry standing at the fireplace with a rucksack slung over one shoulder, grinning like he'd just won the World Cup. "Since when can you floo without making a ruckus?"

Harry's grin grew wider. "Sod off, Weasley. Get over here and hug me." Ron jumped up and nearly knocked him over with a bear hug that had Harry chuckling again. "How are you? I haven't seen you in almost a year and an half."

They separated to glance each other over for changes, neither noticing Forten bouncing about excitedly behind them as though he were a four-year-old about to meet Father Christmas. "I'm excellent. I've so much to tell you about everything. What have you been up to? I know that rubbish you write me isn't true."

Harry didn't even attempt to look sheepish or ashamed at being caught lying. "Constant vigilance, you know. I'll tell you what I can, though. First, I want to meet this boyfriend of yours." He'd glanced at Forten behind Ron's shoulder and grinned at him, making the flamboyant blond blush.

As if finally remembering that his boyfriend was present and impatiently awaiting an introduction, Ron turned and pulled the man over. "Harry, this is my boyfriend, Forten. Forten, this is my best friend, Harry." Grinning and tomato red, Forten shook his hand and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'You're bloody gorgeous', that made Harry laugh. Ron rolled his eyes and took Harry's bag to put in the spare room, leaving them alone for a minute.

"Mr. Potter, I've dreamed of this moment since I was three years old and my grandmother told me bedtime stories about our Saviour. I can't believe you're actually standing in front of me, in my living room. I mean, it isn't as though Ron doesn't talk about you all the time, but it's never really hit me that 'Harry' is actually Harry Potter until this moment." He looked ready to continue for a good hour, but Harry held up a hand to stop him.

"How old are you, again?"

"Twenty-two, Sir."

"Then please don't call me 'sir', we're the same age. In fact, you're probably older than me. And Mr. Potter was my grandfather."

"Yes, Mr. Potter."

"Forten, Harry's my best mate, not my dad. You won't be calling him 'Mr. Potter' when he's pissed and singing bad muggle songs until three in the morning, so don't start now," Ron cut in on his way to the kitchen from the bedroom.

Harry did his best to look offended. "I do not sing bad muggle music when pissed. It's all good, you just have bad taste in music."

"And you can't carry a tune. Firewhiskey?"

He seemed to ignore the insult to his singing in favour of following Ron into the kitchen. "Brilliant idea, I haven't had a decent drink in two months."

"Two months? Bloody Hell, looks like you've some catching up to do, then." They grinned at each other as Ron poured the drinks. By that time Forten had come in, still looking like he didn't know what to do with himself. Ron made sure the drink he was given held more that either his or Harry's, hoping it would relax his nerves a little. It didn't, but after two more he began to call Harry by his given name, which was about as good as he figured they were going to get for the time being.

* * *

"You'll never guess who I saw a few weeks ago." They'd moved to the living room somewhere around an hour before, bringing a fresh bottle of Ogden's with, and had been going through random happenings for a while now, Forten listening with his head resting on Ron's lap and Ron's fingers running absently through his blond curls.

"If the name starts with an 'L', I'd rather not know, thanks."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Believe me, if it was Lavender, I would rather forget myself." He made a face and downed another glass as if to try and forget the thought of it.

"Who's Lavender?"

"You don't want to know."

Harry was grinning mischievously though, not about to lose an opportunity to take the piss out of Ron for such a horrendous offence as allowing anyone to call him 'Won-Won'. "Lavender was Ron's first girlfriend and he couldn't keep his hands off her. It was the most disgusting thing I've ever seen."

Forten looked up at him wide-eyed. "Ron dated a girl?" At this point Ron was staring up at the ceiling with a pained expression, muttering something about vindictive deities.

"He dated two girls, but Lavender was like watching a broom crash. They were constantly snogging, or cuddling, or something equally appalling. The worst was when she called him 'Won-Won'."

Forten burst into peels of laughter. "Won-Won? You've got to be lying! There's no way Ron would let that happen!" But the look on Ron's face was enough to tell him that it was the truth. "Should I start calling you 'Won-Won'?"

"You do and you'll be spending the night right here." That didn't stop the blond from pecking his lips and settling back into a laying position, muttering 'Won-Won' humorously to himself.

Harry grinned, then shook his head. "No, I saw Malfoy."

Ron nearly dropped his glass in shock. "Draco Malfoy? I thought he was dead or in exile or something. Did you arrest him?"

"No, no reason to. I only had to talk to him. He's... changed."

"Obviously not if he still needs to be spoken to by aurors."

"Well, it wasn't anything dangerous, at least not to anyone but himself."

"What did he do, try to off himself?"

"No, that's not illegal, anyway. He slept with a werewolf."

"How is that illegal? It isn't illegal for werewolves to get married. Do they just not expect them to shag?"

"No, but it's illegal for magical creatures to have sex outside specific species, and werewolves aren't allowed to procreate at all. Well, they can, but there's a highly specialized ritual they have to go through, first." Harry paused to look thoughtfully at his drink before taking a sip. "Actually, now that I think of it, did Fleur change citizenship when she married Bill?"

"No, she said she could 'never be aneetheeng but French.' Why?"

He decided it was probably best not to comment on the horrible impression of a French accent he'd just heard, but Forten was definitely giggling from Ron's lap. "Good, make sure she keeps it or she and Bill won't be able to stay together."

"Why?"

"She's part-veela, right? It's illegal for werewolves and veela to have sex. Something about the species being a bad mix. I don't know, but that's what I had to talk to Malfoy about."

"But I thought he slept with the werewolf."

"He did."

"But..." He furrowed his brow. "I'm confused."

"My feelings exactly when my boss gave me the complaint. Apparently, the Malfoys have some veela in them."

"How exactly is that possible?"

"That would be a question to ask the creature department. Or Draco. I tried not to think of the logistics of it. I talked to him, had a cup of tea, and left. I hate that part of my job."

"Well, why'd they send you?"

"I was between assignments and I do know him, at least. I don't know, it's just tedious. I'd much rather be tracking Death Eaters."

* * *

The flat was silent when Harry woke that morning and he assumed that Ron had already gone to work. Still groggy and slightly hung over from the night of drinking, he decided it would be best to take a shower before he even began to contemplate food, and made his way to the bathroom with his toiletry kit. After emptying his bladder, he contemplated having a shave while waiting for the water in the shower to heat up. After some musings, he decided it was probably a better idea to wait until he'd at least had a chance to wake up properly before approaching his face with a sharp implement, even if that implement was charmed to prevent accidental injury. To the shower it was, then.

His skin had turned pink by the time he had finished shampooing and he decided to rest his back against the cool tile as a breather before continuing to wash. He registered the door opening as he was about to doze off, but dismissed it as Forten needing to use the loo and too tired to realize the bathroom was already occupied. It didn't register that something might be off until the glass door to the shower opened and another body invaded the small space. By the time Harry opened his eyes, cursing himself for letting his guard down even in Ron's home, Forten was already on his knees and engulfing him.

"Fuck! What are you doing! Get off of me!" He tried to push him away, but Forten ignored him and reached up to tweak one of his nipples with a grin.

"Relax, Ron won't be home until late afternoon. He never needs to know. God, I've been fantasizing about doing this since I started having sexual fantasies. You're everything I imagined and more." With that, he went fervently back to his task.

Harry was seeing stars, it had been so long since someone had touched him sexually, but this was mad! He couldn't allow this to continue. He took a firm hold of Forten's hair and pulled it as far away from his body as he could reach, ignoring the loud popping noise made by Forten's lips leaving him and the fresh batch of stars it left him with. "Just because I don't have my wand on my person does not mean that I won't hesitate to hex you. Besides the fact that I am in no way, shape, or form gay, you are my best friend's boyfriend, so leave off," he growled, barely able to contain the disgust and anger he felt, let alone the embarrassment. Forten blinked up at him, looking as though he might be near tears, but Harry didn't care. He shoved past him, snatched up a towel, and hurried from the room.

Despite Forten's many attempts at getting him to speak, it took the rest of the morning for Harry to calm down enough to even look at him, let alone say anything. When he could finally look at him without wanting to vomit, Forten was sitting on the edge of the sofa, biting his nails and sending anxious glances his way every few seconds. Harry took a seat in the armchair on the opposite side of the room and glared at him. "What in the bloody fuck were you thinking?"

"I don't know. I've been dreaming about you since I was small and I heard you in the shower, and I thought 'Here's your chance. He's right there, naked, and probably beautiful. You'll never forgive yourself if you don't at least try.' So I did, and you were just... so beautiful, and it was like you were waiting for me because you didn't move when I came in, you just stood there with your eyes closed. I wanted to worship you the way you deserve, I couldn't think of anything else. So I got in the shower and I did."

"No, you violated me. I never asked to be assaulted. I never gave you any indication that I was interested. I could arrest you, you know. I could have you extradited back to England and sent to Azkaban for assaulting an Auror. Scrimgeor pretty much does whatever I ask him to, so that really wouldn't be a problem." There was a silence between them, Forten squirming in his seat and Harry shrewdly glaring at him. "I won't, though. I couldn't let the papers find out. It would destroy Ron and I love him too much to let that happen. Unlike other people who only claim to."

Forten swallowed audibly and looked at his hands. "I thought you weren't gay."

"I'm not. Ron and Hermione are my only family. I love them both more than anything and I would go to the ends of the Earth to protect them." Another awkward silence consisting of Harry's glare and Forten's fidgeting.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I just... Have you ever heard of the 'Not Considered Cheating' list?"

"No, but I don't see how what you did wouldn't be cheating. You had my cock in your mouth." He cringed at the very thought of it, but the blond shook his head.

"It isn't a list of actions, it's a list of people. Celebrities, actually. Have you ever seen the American telly show, 'Friends'?" Harry shook his head in the negative. "Well, it's a show from America that I used to watch while I was still in school there. Anyway, there's this episode where they play this game where everyone makes a list of five people that, if you were in a relationship and one of them happened to proposition you, sleeping with them wouldn't be considered cheating."

"And what's the point of this story?"

"You're number one on my list."

"You and Ron made lists and agreed on this?"

"Well, no, but--"

"But nothing. I don't care. You've cheated on Ron and put me in the very uncomfortable position of having to tell him because you obviously had no intention to." He wrinkled his nose and turned away. "Bloody fuck, I can't even look at you." He stood and left the room in disgust, feeling suddenly nauseous.

* * *

Harry sat nervously on the sofa, dreading Ron's arrival back home from work. How do you tell you best friend that his boyfriend has made a pass at you and not turn out looking like the bad guy? He felt awful, even knowing that he'd done nothing to cause the incident except being Harry Potter, whoever that was. After what had transpired, the miscreant had wisely chosen to leave until later that night, after Ron had time to calm down and they could discuss things more rationally. Although Harry was sceptical as to how well things would go even after Ron had time to relax, having been on the receiving end of Ron's wrath on more occasions than he preferred to think about and for much less than what Forten had done that morning. Not that he particularly cared; the bastard deserved whatever Ron was going to do to him.

The dread in his stomach suddenly doubled as the sound of the front door opening rang through the otherwise silent flat. A moment later, Ron was walking into the room, looking tired and yet pleased about something. "We found more today. Bill thinks we'll be needing to do a few more days work before leaving for Nefertari's tomb, but we've learned a lot so far. Raleigh's already owled Gringotts for permission. This is so exciting. What if we really find his tomb? Maybe we could find more? Osiris for sure, but what about Khnum or Set or Horus or Isis? This has the potential to shatter everything we know about Ancient Mythology."

Harry listened to his excited ramble with an apprehensive ear. He hated the idea of having to ruin his best friend's day, but he could not withhold his news no matter how horrible it was. He reassured himself that he had had to deliver worse news before, but he didn't like to think about that. Voldemort was dead along with all the ghosts he'd created. It was best not to dwell on such things, especially when one was about to shatter someone else's love life. "Why are you going somewhere else? Isn't the mural with all the clues at the place you're at now?"

"Yeah, but it's only a rough guide to what happened and there are indications that Nefertari oversaw the actual burial. We're hoping to find more in her tomb. There's so much detail in it that there's bound to be something we've missed. At least, that's what Bill says."

"Who's Nefertari? I've never heard of him." Perhaps it wouldn't hurt anything if he delayed the inevitable for just a little longer.

"She was the most important wife of Ramses II. She would have had enough pull with the government to be able to do as she liked and Bill says there are connections in her tomb to both Ra and Horus, which could indicate her involvement in their burials, if they happened. He thinks she convinced her husband to let her bury him, out of respect, since the guy who did the killing obviously wouldn't have."

"Well, that sounds promising."

"Yeah, I know. Bill's impatient to get there. Hopefully we won't have any problems getting the permission. I don't know if Gringotts has the right to explore, though. We'll have to wait and find out." Harry nodded, not knowing quite how to continue the current conversation, but not yet willing to change the subject. Unfortunately, he was not given a choice in the matter. "So, how was your day? Did you and Forten get on well? Did he bore you with questions about saving the world all day? Where is he?"

Harry bit his lip and turned his gaze down to his hands, fidgeting with the fringe of the throw pillow in his lap. "Right... um, today was... I don't know how to tell you this, but..." Frustrated at the unfairness of what he was being forced to do, he dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his eyes. "There was an incident this morning. I was in the shower trying to wake up when I heard the bathroom door open. I figured Forten just had to use the loo and ignored it. But he, um... he got in the shower with me instead and he, uh... He sort of tried to come on to me."

Ron stared at him open-mouthed for a minute. "What do you mean, he tried to come on to you? How?"

Harry tugged at his hair, hesitating. He hadn't wanted to get into details. "He tried to... tried to suck me off."

There was a low growl. "I should have known the little shit would do this. He practically orgasmed when I told him you were coming." Harry didn't say anything, didn't know what to say. A tense silence settled, then Ron suddenly sat stiffly upright, determination on his face. "Where is he?" he ground out.

"Don't know. I heard him leave a few hours ago, but I couldn't even look at him so I didn't ask where he was going."

"Right. He better know not to come back because I'm going to kill him." His words held no doubt that he was anything but serious as he stood and stalked to his bedroom. Crashing and banging ensued. Twenty minutes later what looked like an entire wardrobe came floating into the room and stopped at the front door, followed by more shoes than it was healthy for a man to own. Ron came back a minute later and followed the parade of clothing out the door only to return alone five minutes later. Harry greeted him with a tumbler of Portencia's SlowBurn Vodka.

"How angry are you at me?"

"Did you push him away?"

Harry looked horrified. "Of course! I'm not even gay! Besides, I would never sleep with someone you were with even if we preferred the same gender. You're my best mate."

Ron nodded and settled into the couch, squinting his eyes shut. "Why does life always shit on us?"

"Maybe we were murderers in our last life."

"Don't pull that reincarnation rubbish on me. I've already got a headache." They were quiet after that, passing the bottle between them, until the sound of the front door unlocking made them glance at each other. Harry stood and left to give them some privacy, but he could hear every word from the spare room. Ron set the bottle down, fearing that he might commit murder with it otherwise, and pretended that the blond hadn't just entered the room.

"Ron?" came the remorseful plea of his former lover. He was ignored. He ventured further in and tried again. "Ron, we can talk about this. It was a mistake, a stupid mistake, and you have no idea how much I regret it. I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." By then he had wandered to the sofa and fell to his knees at Ron's feet, tears glistening in his green eyes. Ron didn't even look at him.

"Get out." His voice held a hollow rigidity so unlike him that even Harry looked in out of worry. He quickly ducked back into his room at the blond's simpering voice.

"Please, we can work through this. It was a silly, selfish, childish mistake. I acted like a teenage boy with a crush and didn't think. I don't want Harry, I want you. I love you." His voice had gone quiet and watery with his tears, and his hand trailed up Ron's thighs. Ron didn't look at him, stayed perfectly still, but he could feel the desperation in Forten's touch. His hands were shaking as he unfastened Ron's trousers and something about the timber of the constant stream of mumbled apologies as he worked made Ron hesitate in stopping him. Instead, he relaxed into the sofa cushions and rested his head on its back, closing his eyes. He loved this man, was in love with him, and yes, he'd made a mistake, but he was human. People made mistakes, especially when it came to Harry. So when Forten crawled into his lap, naked from the waist down, and sunk down onto him, muttering more apologies between kisses, he didn't push him away. Instead, he lay back and enjoyed the fucking.

When he came, he bit into Forten's shoulder so hard that there was blood, but Forten was too busy muttering 'I love you's in his ear to care.

* * *

The clock in the kitchen struck three and the flat was nearly silent except for the soft creak of the guest room door opening and closing. Harry wandered in through the living room to the kitchen, too upset to sleep, and was surprised to see Ron sitting at the table, staring blankly into the blue of the cooling fires. "Ron? What are you doing awake?"

The redhead didn't even look up. "Couldn't sleep, you?"

"Same. I can't stop thinking about what happened today. Why did you--?"

"Can we not? I don't want to talk about it."

Harry nodded and poured himself a glass of water from the tap before sitting down next to him. They sat in silence together until the clock marked a quarter past, Ron watching the gentle sway of the flames and Harry watching Ron.

"Do you remember that fight we had during fourth year? When I thought you'd put your name in the Goblet?"

Harry grinned. "Of course I do, you were being a right prat."

A fraction of a smile slipped onto Ron's face, but he still didn't make eye contact. "After we made up, I told myself I would never be mad at you for being who you are again and I've pretty much kept that promise. You can't help that you're Harry Potter any more than I can help that I've got freckles." Harry didn't answer, waiting to find out where this was going. He wanted to ask Ron what he was doing allowing that git back into his bed, but he knew if he said anything he would go back into himself again. "I can't hold it against Forten, either. It's not his fault that he idolizes you any more than it's yours. Yes he's made a mistake, but he regrets it and..." Ron's eyes looked watery, but he seemed to dismiss it as he looked back at the flames. "I love him. He's my everything. I don't know how I'd function without him. I can't just end things after our first fight without at least trying."

Sighing, Harry massaged his shoulder in resignation. "All right, Ron. It's all right." Ron would come around eventually, and if that little prick hurt him more before he did, Harry would just have to take him out to the desert and show him how good at Unforgivables he'd become.

* * *

Date: Monday, 20 August, 2001

To: Raleigh Rutherford Rookwood

Assistant Curse Breaker

Gringotts Bank

From: Turtingtoll Mordonfus Kellgorotk

Head of Egyptian Excavation Committee

Gringotts Bank

Request denied. Further explanation of the discovery is necessary. The photographs given were of insufficient nature to explain the necessity of examining the Nefertari site. Please do not assume, Mr. Rookwook, that, though your team has made numerous valuable contributions to Gringotts, we will allow you to go about as you please without extensive explanation of your request. This is not the Ministry of Magic. Please remind Mr. Weasley of this, as well.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** Department of Magical Creatures Case #645369

**Author:** feltonxmalfoy

**Beta:** domtheknight

**Pairing:** DM/RW (eventually), DM/EM, DM/SF, DM/TH, DM/JFF, DM/CW, DM/multipleOMC's, RW/3OMC's, HG/OMC, BW/FD

**Chapter:** Five

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** slash, swearing, sexual acts (but no details for now)

**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** At 21, Draco Malfoy is on a journey to find his life mate, but is delayed by pesky Hufflepuffs screaming 'regulations' and 'laws'. Please, Malfoys play by their own rules.

**A/N:** Re-edited and re-uploaded 31/03/2008

* * *

It took more pheromones than usual to get passed the coffee queue, but Draco blamed it on the weather and flirted with the cute barista anyway. Muffin in hand, he made his way to an empty table by the window and settled down to rest his tired feet. He had spent the last three hours wandering from store to store, wondering at all there was to look at and making the dreadfully difficult decision as to what to purchase for his mother's birthday. She would be so excited to see the beautiful blouse he'd found at Gucci (who knew the clothing designs were different in America than in Europe?). He smiled to himself knowing that she was going to be the talk of all the gossip columns the next time he coaxed her out of the house. And the white gold pendant was going to look lovely with the blue dress robes she bought last month...

He was distracted from his thoughts by a strong scent, nearly addicting in its muskiness. Looking up, he watched a somewhat short, muscular man get into the queue. He looked too curious to be a native and the logo sewn into his messenger bag proved him to be Irish. It wasn't until ten minutes later when he opened his mouth to order that Draco recognized him, though. He waited until the Irishman was passing his table to leave before calling his name. Seamus turned, eyes widening as he recognized Draco.

"Malfoy?"

"Finnegan, fancy meeting you here."

He looked wary of the glowing smile he received from the blond. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here on holiday. I had to get out of England. You?" He indicated the chair across, and Seamus, still slightly cautious, sat down.

"I'm doing an article on American Quidditch. Why'd you come to Chicago? I'd've thought you'd go to New York."

"No, my travel agent thought it would be a better choice to come here. The night life is supposed to be better for our age group."

"Oh." He shifted uncomfortably and fiddled with his coffee. Draco took the awkward silence as an opportunity to look his prey over. He wasn't gorgeous, but there was no denying that he was attractive. His features had matured, as had his dress. No more t-shirts proclaiming that 'Irishman do it best', at least not today. The tacky eyesore had been replaced with a pressed, pale-blue Oxford that did well to emphasize his eyes. Draco just hoped that was not an indication of some sort of female presence trying to sort him out because he had every intention of taking this one to bed. A lot could be done with that muscular body and his scent was pulsing with sexuality.

Just the thought made Draco smile provocatively over his coffee cup. "So, tell me, Finnegan, how have you been? I can see that life after Hogwarts has treated you well."

Seamus looked out the window with a slight (and as far as Draco was concerned, uncharacteristic) blush. "I've been alright. I'm workin' at the Prophet as a... er..." His eyes became slightly glazed and he leaned a bit closer, proof that the pheromones Draco had been discretely releasing had worked their way up to a proper level. "I'm the senior editor of the sports section."

"Really? What an accomplishment to have such a high position at such a young age." He smiled in amusement at the obvious lie and leaned closer as well. Seamus feigned modesty, but began to preen all the same. "Why don't we go back to my hotel and have a drink to celebrate? You don't have anything else planned, do you?"

"No, I'm free. What are we celebrating?"

"You." Seamus grinned as they both stood up, and after a short walk and astonished exclamations from Seamus as they entered the luxurious hotel, they were in the room and waiting for the drinks to finish making themselves. "So you have a brilliant career, you look amazing; any significant other?" Draco had strategically placed himself as close to Seamus as he could, facing him with one arm draped over the oblivious man's shoulder and the other nonchalantly near grazing his thigh.

"No, no lass to speak of."

"No lad, either?" His hand 'accidentally' slid onto Seamus' thigh and began to slowly trace the fabric of his trousers. Seamus burst into a fit of nervous laughter.

"No, no, I don't go that way."

"Really? You've never even considered it?" He shook his head. Undeterred, Draco let out the remainder of his pheromones and felt them pulse along the Irishman's skin. "So, I should probably stop wondering when you're going to kiss me, then, hmm?"

Seamus looked at him in all his glassy-eyed awe. "You'll let me kiss you?"

"I was going to let you fuck me, but I might reconsider if you don't hurry up." If it were possible, Seamus' eyes went wider and Draco immediately found himself pinned to the sofa. Not about to let a straight man lead the proceedings, he rolled them over and began to unbutton Seamus' Oxford. Seamus was incoherent for the majority of the remainder of the night except for a few 'Oh God's and 'Fuck's and 'You feel so good's.

* * *

Draco awoke to snoring and impatiently shoved at Finnegan's shoulder. The only response he got was a grunt and an arm pulling him close. "Finnegan, as much as I approve of morning sex, unless you're planning on having some, you need to let me go. I don't tolerate snoring."

Seamus appeared to rouse enough to nudge his nose into Draco's neck. As he woke further, he began to trail kisses up to Draco's lips, letting his hand wander down to slide along the curve of his bum. The blond moaned and squirmed slightly into the kiss as a finger slid passed his entrance to rub against the skin behind his--

"Bloody fuck!" Seamus exclaimed as he pulled away. "You've got boy bits! Why do you have boy bits!" He worked himself into such a fuss that he managed to topple himself over the edge of the bed before he got an answer. He recovered himself quickly and scrambled to his feet only to project expletives as soon as he looked at Draco long enough to recognize him. "Malfoy, what is going on!"

Draco merely reclined into the pillows and watched him with amusement. "Well, I thought we were about to have a nice morning shag, but then you appeared to have suffered a panic attack and now I'm randy with nothing to do about it. Unless you've decided to come back to your senses?" His raised eyebrow only got him a glare.

"What spell did you use on me? I'd never sleep with you willingly."

"I may have used my veela influence, but you were fairly eager to come back with me even without it." Well, that wasn't entirely true, but Finnegan needn't know that.

"Veela! You're no veela! Veela are women!"

Draco made an irritated noise and got up, throwing Seamus' pants at him from the other side of the bed on his way to the bath. "If you're going to insult me in the greatest manner possible, this conversation is no longer worth my attention. Please see yourself out." Seamus glared at the forcefully shut bathroom door in outrage, muttering to himself under his breath as he did so. He left the suite with a slam of the door that was so loud it startled the maid cleaning the room next door into looking out to check that nothing was amiss. He ignored her and stormed out, too angry to risk splinching himself by apparating. By the time he reached the lobby, he had calmed down enough to think properly, only to remember that the match had been the day before and he had missed it. "Fuck!"

* * *

The quiet murmur of voices was drowned out by the sultry sounds of the blues quartet on the tiny stage. The man singing appeared to be making love to the microphone and the low-light atmosphere only helped the illusion in Draco's opinion. His table was off to the side of the stage, and he was watching the man's every movement with interest. He was beautiful, with crystal blue eyes and hair the darkest shade of brown he'd ever seen, somewhat messily arranged atop his head. He was taller than Draco and fairly well toned, but not bulky by any means. Draco hated bulky muscles, all veiny and completely unsymmetrical. This man looked to be all curved lines and quiet strength, like his voice, deep and with a rough edge that held an element of the unnamable that touched Draco's soul. He sipped his drink and listened, unable to turn his eyes away even for a moment. He was in love.

He had been watching for nearly two hours before they finally took a break and Draco could only wait long enough for him to reach the bar before he maneuvered to stand next to him. "You were amazing on that stage."

The man looked up with amused surprise. "Thank you."

Draco smiled and leaned towards him. "You've no need to thank me for telling you the truth."

He grinned in response. "How much do you know about blues music?"

Draco mirrored his grin, adding a cheeky quirk to it. "Absolutely nothing."

"Didn't think so. I'm only mediocre. You should listen to the guy that's here on Saturdays. _He's _amazing."

"Well, I couldn't keep my eyes off you, so that's got to count for something. And besides, I don't know that I would be able to sufficiently appreciate someone of such a high calibre without a proper guide to point out the finer points of his playing..." While he was speaking he had slinked into the nook the musician's arm draped across the bar created and moved a hand up the arm he'd placed himself in.

"Maybe I could help you with that."

"Really? That would be delightful."

He glanced at the stage and his bandmates beginning to re-congregate. "I need to get back to the stage in a minute."

"I don't know whether to be disappointed that our conversation is ending or pleased that I get to hear you sing again."

His response was an amused smile. "You're relentless, aren't you? What's your name?"

"Draco Malfoy, and yours?"

"Smith Michael. Interesting name you've got there, Draco. Why don't you stay and I'll take you out for coffee afterwards?"

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away."

Smith chuckled and squeezed his arm. "All right then. I'll see you in a bit." With that he finished his beer and headed back to the stage. Draco followed, navigating his way through people back to his table. He used a quick spell to check for added surprises before picking his drink back up and settling in to listen.

Three hours and one flirting break later, they left the club to meander down to Greektown and the assurance of excellent twenty-four-hour coffee. Draco was weary of going muggle this far away from Michigan Avenue, but Smith assured him that it was perfectly safe. They settled at a table near the window of a crowded restaurant called "Zorba's" and Smith ordered an omelet with hash browns and two cups of coffee.

"Now, where are you from? Because I know you weren't born here."

"I grew up in Wiltshire, but I went to school at Hogwarts in Scotland until I was 16 and then I was forced to transfer to a school in western Russia to finish."

Smith raised his eyebrows at the name. "Hogwarts, really? That's one of the best magical schools in Europe, isn't?"

"It is _the_ best."

They were interrupted by the arrival of their food and each busied himself with the necessary sugaring (and salting in Smith's case) of their orders. "Wasn't there just a civil war in Britain? Is that why you were forced to leave Hogwarts and why you're here?"

Draco shifted in his chair uncomfortably. He hated discussion of the war. This man was harmless, though, and he didn't appear to know any of the details with his mere vague idea of there having been a war in the first place. "It is why I left Hogwarts, but it is not why I'm here. I'm simply on holiday."

Smith nodded, gesturing in swooping patterns with his fork as he spoke in a manner that Draco found endearing. Yes, he was most definitely in love with this man. "All I know about the whole thing was the dictator guy was named Voldemort and some kid named Harry Potter killed him."

He rolled his eyes and sipped bitterly at his coffee. "Potter, idiot though he is, did manage that. Twice."

The brunet nodded as he took a bite. "He was all over the newspapers for a couple of days after he did it. Kind of hot if he got rid of those glasses, if I remember." Perhaps he'd been a bit hasty with the whole 'in love with him' bit.

"Please don't refer to Harry Potter as anything remotely close to attractive ever again. He is the most obnoxious busy-body I have ever known."

"You know him?"

"Unfortunately. He went to Hogwarts. We... didn't get on. Although he seems to want to make amends now, much to my chagrin." He scrunched his nose up at the thought of Potter fawning over him the month before.

"Oh really? I could see where he might want to, you being fucking gorgeous and all. I take it you aren't interested?"

Draco smiled in appreciation of the compliment and made sure his ankle rubbed up against Smith's under the table. "He's an annoying git. I'd rather marry a muggle, a _female_ muggle." Just the thought made him cringe.

"I take it a git is a bad thing?"

"Yes."

"I see." He smiled humourously and glanced out the window at a couple passing outside, hand-in-hand.

"Were you born here?"

"Me? No, I was born in New York, but my parents moved here when I was twelve and we've been here ever since."

A worried knot tied itself in his stomach. "And you live with your parents still...?"

Smith burst into laughter loud enough to rouse notice from neighboring tables. His laughter seemed to permeate the surrounding air, forcing everyone around him to breathe in its refreshing, light-hearted warmth. Draco adored it. "No, no, I have my own place near the wizarding district."

"That's down this road, right?"

"Yeah, about fifteen or twenty blocks south. Only a few El stops."

"El stops?" His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"El, the elevated train? That's what we call the subway system here, since half of it's on elevated tracks.

You haven't ridden it yet?" He seemed surprised. Draco couldn't imagine ever taking muggle public transit. He wasn't interested in touching muggles that were not selling him designer clothing, thank you very much.

"I have a driver for the places I can't apparate to. I think every one of my ancestors would roll over in his grave if I ever took muggle mass transit."

Smith grinned at the notion. "Really? Why's that?"

"I come from a very old, rather distinguished wizarding family and we've never been particularly known for our muggle relations."

"Anti-muggle?"

"To put it mildly."

"Well, my family isn't old and we have no objections to muggles, so I use the El."

"And if I want to sleep with you, I need to use the El as well?"

"Do you?" He looked surprised at the notion despite Draco's very obvious flirtation and near constant physical contact.

"Of course."

This answer appeared to surprise him even more and he studied him for a long moment before smiling. "Then yes, you do."

"And you don't approve of side-along apparition at all?

"Not in a muggle neighborhood."

"You would rather have a thousand generations of Malfoys rolling over, possibly causing a minor earthquake for the Manor and my ailing mother, than frighten a few muggles?"

"A thousand generations?" was the skeptical answer.

"There's a portrait in the library at the Manor that boasts remembering when Merlin was a child. You really want to upset him and all his children and grandchildren, et cetera?"

Smith laughed again, momentarily distracting him from his purpose. "You are something else, you know that? The El is literally two blocks away and this time of night we're likely to find a car with only one or two other people on it. If you agree, I'll give you a treat when we get to my apartment."

"A treat? Do you promise?"

"Promise."

A little while later, after a small scuffle with the automatic ticket machine and then with the entrance carousel, they were standing on the outdoor platform, alone except for a dozing homeless man and four university students all doing their best to keep their balance and their dinners. Draco slid his arms around Smith's neck and moved in as close as possible, pretending to be seductive rather than fearful. "If I ask you a question, will you promise not to think I'm odd?"

"I already think you're odd; in a good way, so please don't pout."

Draco looked affronted for all of three seconds before remembering that the homeless man could decide to become hostile at any moment and moving yet closer still. "There's no doubt that you're homosexual? None at all, right?"

Smith laughed that laugh that sent shivers down Draco's spine and wrapped his arms more tightly around his waist. "How could I not be with such a beautiful man in my arms?"

The blond relaxed a little before leaning up to kiss him briefly, just a taste of tongues that left them both tingling. "Good."

"Why even ask?"

"I was just with someone that wasn't and he was completely unreasonable the next morning. I don't want to make another mistake again."

"Did you get him totally trashed the night before or something?"

Draco hid his blush by lowering his face to Smith's shoulder. "Yes and no. He wasn't drunk off of liquor, at least I doubt one glass of sherry is enough to intoxicate an Irishman. But he was under a certain... influence."

"High?"

Draco was delayed in answering as the train finally came and they got into a car that held only one other person, and exhausted-looking black woman in a nursing uniform that was more asleep than awake. They ignored her as Draco slid into the crook of Smith's arm and crossed his legs so that one was draped over Smith's. "Not high." He glanced nervously at the nurse before performing a quick muffling charm on her. "I um... I don't even know if you're going to understand this, but I'm half veela. Do you know what that is?" Smith blinked at him and Draco gave him a small smile before launching into an explanation that lasted the rest of the El ride.

"So you're not really human?" He seemed more confused than upset and Draco was grateful he was not turning them away from the flat. At least, he hoped he wasn't.

"Not entirely. Half of me is wizard, though. My mother's father was a wizard and all the Malfoys have half wizard blood to maintain the wizarding claim in our line." Smith still looked slightly skeptical. "I'm not an animal if that's what you're thinking. Not in the conventional sense, at least. Full veela turn into large birds that throw balls of fire when they're angry, but the closest I get to that is cooing when I'm happy. I just share their mating habits, which aren't that different from humans except that rather than being monogamous, we're hyper-monogamous in that we physically can not stray from our mates and that we choose them by scent. Otherwise, I'm human."

"You coo when you're happy?" Though still mildly befuddled, he looked to be more amused at the notion.

"Mmm, mostly during sex. I mentioned sex, yes? No? Well, I am _good_ at it; _inhumanly_ good at it."

"At sex?"

"Mhmm, Germanic tribes used to worship veela for their sexual abilities. You should feel privileged." He grinned to show his teasing, but Smith looked like he was still trying to suss out whether all of it was a joke or just the privileged part. The look was so arousing that Draco looked around to see if he could pull off shagging him right there on the stoop of an unknown building without anyone noticing.

Fortunately he never found out because Smith kissed him, hard, exploring his mouth with his tongue in ways Draco had never experienced before. The blond moaned loudly and wrapped his arms around him, returning the kiss. All the while, Smith was directing him up the steps, digging around in his pocket for the correct keys. After some fumbling they were inside and in the lift up to the third floor. By the time they were inside the flat, Draco's dress shirt was unbuttoned and he was attempting to remove Smith's t-shirt with little success as Smith refused to pull away long enough to let him. Stumbling across the apartment, they burst through the bedroom door and tumbled onto the bed together, Draco taking full advantage of falling on top to pin Smith down and finally remove the bloody shirt to reveal the finest chest he'd seen since the Quidditch locker rooms. He couldn't resist the temptation to taste.

* * *

Draco awoke to a pleasant, satisfied feeling. Which made him instantly uneasy. He had not woken up without a feeling of something not quite right since he was, well, about ten years old. He sat up, or rather attempted to, only to be tugged back down by his drowsy bed partner. "Where're y'goin'?" a gruff voice mumbled into his hair. He relaxed, cozying back into his previous position, remembering whom he was with. This satisfaction thing was rather nice. Could it mean...?

"Nowhere, just couldn't remember where I was for a moment. Have you been awake long?" He turned to face his lover and smiled to see the man peering at him with bleary eyes, confirming that he hadn't been even before Smith shook his head.

"Only a few minutes. I was deciding whether to open my eyes or not. The view was definitely worth the effort, though." The brunet grinned tiredly and kissed his nose, pulling him closer. Draco settled his face into Smith's chest and slid a leg between his thighs to get more comfortable.

"Do you have a day job or can we stay in bed all day?"

"I teach music at a Catholic school nearby, but there's no school on weekends and I don't have choir duties until tomorrow."

"At a Catholic school? Don't they hate homosexuals?" His cousin Josephine, twice removed, was Catholic and she had come to his father on numerous occasions requesting to burn all records of his great-grandfather, Artemus Mercutio Malfoy, including the portrait that hung in the south wing of the library, because he had bonded with another man. Lucius had consistently informed her that no bonding is ever an abomination and that he would sooner burn _her_ and her family than destroy his grandfather's legacy.

"It isn't exactly common knowledge, at least not at work."

"But if it was, you would be told to leave?"

"Well, I like to think that having known me for three years now, they would see that we aren't monsters and just let me stay. But I know they wouldn't."

"Why stay where they could so easily turn against you?"

"The kids need as much help as they can get. The neighborhood isn't great and I'm the only thing between some of them and drugs and gangs. I couldn't just leave them."

Not particularly sure what a 'gang' was, Draco only nodded and nudged his nose into the other man's collar bone. Neither offered anything further and Draco drifted in his thoughts. This was nice, just lying in someone's arms without forces inside his head telling him something wasn't right. Could he have found his mate at last? But that couldn't be right, hadn't MacMillan said he would go mad over him? He felt no particularly strong pull to stay, just the notion that he was comfortable. He could probably get up and walk out with no regrets. There was supposed to be some kind of compulsion, wasn't there? He needed to contact MacMillan and figure out if it was possible to only be content when first finding a mate or if he had just found a bloke whom he could tolerate that wasn't his mate.

"You wouldn't happen to know the time, would you?"

Smith shifted positions and craned his neck to see the wall clock. "Almost noon."

"Would you mind if I left you soon?"

He moved up onto his elbow to gaze down at Draco and smoothed a few bits of fringe from his forehead. He looked pensive and Draco could not help but note that pensive was a very attractive facial expression. His heart sped up a bit. Perhaps this Smith being his mate idea wasn't so off as he had thought. "For good?" whispered the musician, still pensive.

"Of course not, don't be ridiculous. You promised to show me the finer point of blues music tonight. You aren't taking it back now, are you?"

"I did? It must have slipped my mind." Draco would have been offended at a dismissal such as this if it weren't for the amusement sparkling in Smith's bright eyes.

"It did no such thing!" The blond shoved his shoulder in irritation, but Smith didn't budge, eyes still sparkling. "Now, are you going to show me exactly why this amazing musician makes you look like a ponce or not?"

"A ponce?" An eyebrow raised in amused confusion.

"Yes, you know, a nancy-boy, a ninny, a pathetic excuse for a musician, et cetera. You're the one that said it."

He grinned and leaned down to nip at Draco's bottom lip. "I used those exact words?"

"I am quoting you exactly."

"Well then, I'll have to prove that I at least know something about good music even if I can't play it." Before Draco could remind his lover that he had already told him he thought the musician was mesmerizing, his mouth had been taken hostage. He allowed the interruption for a few lingering moments before nudging his assailant away with an admonishing look.

"Attempting to seduce me into staying longer, are we?"

"Is it working?" Rather than a verbal answer, Draco returned to kissing.

* * *

MacMillan-

I'm writing you rather urgently in hopes that you may ease my anxiety. I have met someone that I believe may be my mate. His name is Smith Michael, he's twenty-five, and he's an American. I have spent four days with him and have had none of the usual urges to push him away. Indeed, I feel no ill-ease whatsoever when I am with him. I would consider this to be a favourable development, except that the knowledge that I am at ease puts me ill at ease. Should there not be a frantic feeling of snitches in my stomach when I am with him? Because, though I feel no inclination to leave and I very much enjoy his company, I also feel no strong urges towards him. There is no necessity to be with him constantly, no jealousy when others flirt with him (as he is a musician, it is not an uncommon occurrence), etc., that you informed me was commonplace. Could it be that I just react differently than other veela to my mate? Or is he in fact not my mate?

Please respond quickly. He works with muggle mongrels involved in something called 'gangs' and I fear it is going to be a feat of will to convince him that he would be better suited coming home to England with me. As I have no intention of staying here any longer than necessary, I need all the time to convince him as I can get.

-DM

* * *

Smith had given Draco free reign over his flat while he was at work, provided that Draco was there when he got home. Draco enjoyed this arrangement as it gave him access to rifle through Smith's things for clues to possible suspicious behavior (of which he had found none larger than a few magical drugs he knew to be illegal, at least in Britain) and guaranteed sex at tea time, which had merits all its own. He was languishing in Smith's living room/kitchen/dining room, reading through Smith's journal with absolutely no guilt, when a Ministry owl fluttered through one of the open windows to drop on the back of the sofa. Knowing the owl had to be for him since the Americans used pigeons rather than owls, he took the note and otherwise ignored the bird in his anxiety to read the reply MacMillan had been two days in making. So much for an urgent response. The bird hooted impatiently at him and nipped rather painfully at his ear. He yelped and batted at the bird until it flew back out the window. Nursing his ear, he lay back down, journal forgotten for the time being.

* * *

Ernest MacMillan

Ministry of Magic

Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures

Level 4

Dear Mr. Malfoy:

Rest assured that Smith Michael is not your mate, although he more than likely possesses more of the qualities that you are looking for in a mate than you have encountered previously. This would account for the contentment you feel towards him. When your true mate comes along, there will be absolutely no doubt in your mind. All of the symptoms I have described to you are universal. There has not been a recorded case of a veela of your blood concentration or higher ever being apathetic towards his mate, nor do I anticipate that there ever will be. My advice for your current situation would be to keep in touch with Mr. Michael. I know that you often feel frustrated with the instincts that keep you discontent without your mate. Perhaps it would be beneficial for you to have someone to go to as a sort of respite. If you have further questions, please feel free to send them with return owl. Remember that your next form is due on the Twenty-First.

Respectfully,

Ernest MacMillan

Breeding Counselor

Ministry of Magic

E.M.

* * *

Well, at least he no longer had to worry about extending his stay in order to convince Smith to come home with him. It had not been that large a relief to think that he had finally found his mate. This just meant that there was someone even _better_ waiting to be with him. Yes, this was a favourable development, indeed. Dropping the parchment to his chest, he laid in silence, staring up at the ceiling for a while.

His eyes wandered to the journal he had been perusing. It was a good thing that he had not mentioned the possibility to Smith. The man would have been hopelessly devoted, rather than simply smitten and, though Draco enjoyed breaking hearts every now and then, he would not have enjoyed breaking Smith's. He banished the journal to the bedroom impatiently and stood to pace. When was that blasted school going to let out? Gutter rats needn't be taught this long, surely. He glanced at the clock, two-thirty-three. Not long now.

He continued to pace.

It was nearing on six o'clock when the front door opened and an exhausted-looking Smith walked in. Draco stopped pacing in order to watch him flop down onto the sofa, heedless of the knapsack still strapped to his back. "God, sometimes I wonder if I'm even doing anything, you know?" Draco kneeled on the sofa next to him and began peeling off the hot layers of professor-dom, listening 'intently' to his lover's day only because he knew that he would be shagged senseless as soon as it was over. "I found a knife on one of my third-graders today. When I asked him what had possessed him to bring a weapon to school he told me he wanted to teach one of his classmates a lesson for taking his glue stick in another class. A nine-year-old thought he needed to take out his classmate over glue." He clenched his eyes closed as if in pain as Draco unbuttoned his Oxford with as sympathetic a look as he could possibly manage while trying to suss out what a 'glue stick' was. "What's happened to our children? When I was that age, if you were pissed at someone, you didn't pick them for kickball. Stabbing them was never even a factor. Except, you know, with a plastic sword during pirate games or something." Nodding indulgently, the blond slipped into his lap and began to massage his shoulders. He thought it prudent not to mention what he had been doing at the age of nine to those who upset him. "Anyway, after finding the knife, I had to have a conference with him and Father William and his guardian, who turned out not to speak English. Thank God Father White's Spanish is so good because mine is just... non-existent."

"Why would the person not speak English?"

"She's an immigrant from Mexico. Haven't you noticed that there are a lot of Latin-Americans around this area? We're in the Latin district."

"Then, why did she speak Spanish? Shouldn't she speak Latin?"

Smith looked amused, though the moan he let out as Draco worked out a particularly tight muscle was decidedly closer to aroused. "Latin's a dead language; only priests speak it. Latin-Americans are people from the Spanish- and Portuguese-speaking regions of the Americas."

"Latin isn't a dead language. I speak it. Nearly everyone in wizarding Britain worth their wand speaks it."

"Really? Why?"

Draco blinked at him. "How is one expected to manipulate spells if one does not understand the language the spells are invoked in?"

"What are you talking about? Only the really really old spells are in Latin and most of those are all banned by the government." His voice showed his conviction that the statement was obvious, only increasing Draco's confusion. He readjusted his seat on Smith's lap and dropped his hands from the massage, letting them drop down to lie on either side of his hips.

"All of my magic is in Latin. I don't think I've ever heard of a spell that wasn't in Latin that actually worked."

"All my magic's in English."

"It is?" Surprised was insufficient to describe Draco's feeling upon hearing this. Smith only did magic non-verbally, but he had just assumed that the spells were in Latin, as his own were.

"Yeah."

"And it works?" he asked absently, distracted by his own thoughts as his hands smoothed back up Smith's waist and his nails dragged softly up and down his flanks.

"Obviously. I don't think we'd have had quite as much sex without a lubrication charm, do you?" The musician seemed more interested in having quite a bit more sex than in the conversation and made his point by thrusting his hips up to meet Draco's.

Draco squirmed and wrapped his arms around his neck, massaging the short hairs at his nape; a small, sly smile began to creep onto his face. "Well, I do have my own. Actually, I know of several. I just happen to like yours."

"And yours are in Latin?" His voice became slightly raspy as his hands delved beneath the waistline of Draco's jeans and clenched onto his cheeks, bringing their hips into harder contact.

"Yes," was his breathless response as he assisted the friction their bodies were creating, his eyes shuttering and his fingers tugging at the Smith's hair.

"And it works?" Smith's lips turned up in a feral grin and he leaned down to attach his lips to Draco's pale neck in a sucking kiss. Draco just managed an affirmative reply before his voice gave over to a moan.

"Show me."

Slipping his wand out from his back pocket, the blond crouched to whisper, "_Inhalo Cuti_," in his lover's ear. Smith reacted immediately, groaning and attacking Draco's mouth as hot breath ghosted across every sensitive area of his body.

When he pulled away, he had his own wand and grinned as he rasped out, "Tickle veela." Invisible fingers began tickling Draco and he was unable to stop himself from giggling as he wriggled around to 'avoid' the insistent fingers. Smith took full advantage of his inability to control himself to pin him to the couch and attack his lips again, his own fingers joining in with the ones he'd created to make Draco laugh even harder through their kiss. He managed to get out another spell in between giggles that had Smith growling again. They spent the next several hours in an eccentric duel of which neither won.

* * *

Draco looked up from his tea only to let out a loud sigh. "What have I done to piss off the Aurors now, Potter? Am I not allowed to shag straight men either?"

Harry only grinned and sat in the empty chair he hadn't been offered. "Nothing to do with business, just coincidence this time. How was America?"

Draco wrinkled his nose in annoyance, but otherwise allowed his uninvited guest. "Hot, muggy, and apparently full of Gryffindors."

"Oh?"

"Yes, that Finnegan bloke was staying near me, doing some sort of sports piece."

Harry looked alarmed. "And you..."

"With him, yes. The Americans were too loud and self-absorbed for my taste, at least the majority of them. There was one..." He looked off into the crowd of Hogwarts students buying supplies and shrugged. Smith had been upset upon first hearing that Draco had to leave, but after a conversation that lasted long into the night, he had agreed to stay in touch with the veela, a fact that made Draco very happy. MacMillan had been correct; it would be an unbelievable comfort to Draco to have someone that he could go to to relieve the loneliness whenever he needed him to. He mentally shook himself of the thoughts and took a sip of his tea. "At any rate, I'm back, for the time being at least."

"Miss home so soon?"

Draco ignored the mischievous grin that crept onto Potter's face and fiddled with his tea cup. "I may go to France. I may just claim you. I certainly see you enough. And do you know you smell devine? What have you been doing? You were never intoxicating before."

Harry shifted uncomfortably and rolled his eyes, a faint blush emerging. "I went to Egypt on mini-break to see Ron. And you are not going to 'claim me'. I happen to be straight."

Draco only smirked. "That's what Finnegan said."

Harry rolled his eyes and settled into his chair. "I can't believe you shagged Seamus. What made you think he was even attractive?"

The blond leaned over the table with a conspiratorial grin that bordered on seductive. "He has a very manly scent and it happens to drive me completely mad. Much as you're doing right now. Sure you don't want to shag? I'm exceptionally fantastic."

Harry was somehow able to remain cool and collected despite his extreme urge to blush. "Manly scent? Are you serious?"

"Yes, I can't help it. I'm a walking cliche. Like one of those romance novels Brown writes. It is Brown, isn't it? It was one of those flitty little Gryffindors you all seemed to worship like twats."

Harry grinned at the insult. "I wouldn't know. I'm not allowed to bring Lavender up in conversation."

"Weasley's still bitter about the break-up, then? That's pathetic." The corner of Draco's lip perked in amusement.

"Given that he ended it, moved immediately on to Hermione, finally sussed out he was gay, and is now sleeping with the biggest wanker I've ever met, I think he's fairly over it."

"Weasley's gay?"

"As a rainbow. Why do you think Hermione's marrying the curator?"

"Granger's engaged? How does Granger get engaged and I can't find a decent lifemate? She's not even passably attractive!"

Harry smirked. "Crap thing, that Karma, isn't it?"

Draco brushed the notion off with a hand movement. "I was a product of my upbringing. I can hardly be held responsible for my actions. And I believe he that _is_ has more than paid in full."

"I don't know about that. Your father could have got worse."

"Worse than death? What could possibly be worse?"

"I don't know; I'd have liked to have seen Lucius locked up in Azkaban for life with his own private fleet of dementors. And his soul."

"That's rather a vindictive picture, Potter. Isn't that what you managed to get the professor's punishment to?"

"Umbridge or Snape?"

"Snape. What could Umbridge have possibly ever done besides take away your broom?" Harry lifted his right hand to display pink scars scribbling out 'I will not tell lies'. Having never seen them before, Draco immediately snatched the hand up without permission to further examine it. Harry didn't protest. "My, my, Potter, so this is what you were up to in all those detentions. If I'd have known, I think I'd have got you in trouble more often." He gently traced the letters, eyes following the movement of his fingertips. Harry moved in closer to look as well, since he hadn't properly looked at the scars in years. Draco looked up at the movement and their eyes locked. Before he knew what he was doing, he leaned in to capture Harry's lips in a tentative kiss. It took a moment for either to pull away, but the aftermath was immediate. Draco wrinkled his nose and sat back in his chair while Harry did his best to look scandalized.

"Bloody Hell, Malfoy!"

"I know, awful. No idea what came over me, must have been that scent of yours, very deceiving."

"Well, don't do it again. I've already been sexually assaulted once this week. I'd prefer to keep it at that. I'm not even gay!"

"I realize that. I can't hold back my instincts sometimes. Don't smell like that and I won't do it." A moment followed of Harry looking disgusted and wiping his mouth off with the napkin he nicked from under Draco's saucer, and then the entirety of what Harry had said hit him. "What do you mean you've already been sexually assaulted once this week? You aren't that attractive..."

Harry gave a sardonic smile, but resisted the urge to kick the blond under the table. "You know, it's comforting to know that I can always count on you to find a way to take me down a notch even when I'm at the very bottom."

Draco shrugged, his eyes dancing with amusement. "What can I say? It's a gift. Now please, explain. I'm all of a flutter to know who's been insensible enough to attack an Auror."

"This stupid fucking faggot named Forten cornered me while I was hung-over in the shower and tried to suck me off."

Draco bristled at the terminology and gritted his teeth as he spoke. "_Excuse me?_ You've already confessed that your best friend is homosexual, so I can't imagine that you harbour any prejudices against us. Please refrain from using that... _word_ in my presence ever again."

Notably cowed, Harry dropped his eyes to his hands, fidgeting on the table, eyebrows furrowing in a look that could almost be seen as upset. At least it looked that way to Draco, who had learned long ago to recognize the subtle differences in expression used by those who desired to hide their inner thoughts; Harry had obviously found it prudent to utilize the technique upon joining the Aurors. "Sorry, I don't normally. It's just... God, I was basically orally raped, all right? I think I have the right to be a bit bitter. And to make it worse, he's Ron's boyfriend. And I told Ron and he got really upset, but then, as soon as Forten starts groveling like the pathetic little rat he is, Ron takes him back without question. And now he won't even let me talk about it."

_So, rather than go to Granger like a normal person, you come to me. How wonderful,_Draco thought, trying not to look irritated and further upset Potter. The man might break into sobs on his shoulder or something, and that just would not be on. Uncomfortable, he shifted in his seat and looked out at the crowd again. "Potter, I know I inadvertently confessed my own unfortunate sexual incident to you, but that does not mean that we are on confidential terms now and I do not _do_ upset, so could you please stop? If it upset you so much, why didn't you just arrest the little bugger for assaulting an Auror?"

Harry seemed to remember where he was and with whom he was speaking and visibly straightened into a more rigid posture. "Did you miss the whole part where he's Ron's boyfriend and Ron took him back? I could never do that to Ron. It would get all over the papers and cause a huge problem for him and I'd just rather not. Sorry I bothered you with it; I momentarily forgot that you don't have a heart. I'll try to remember in the future." Without another word, he stood and strolled right out of the shop. Unmoved by the slight on his character, Draco relaxed from his nervous fidgeting and returned to his tea. Thank God there had been no tears.

* * *

**Form:** 83352739

**Name:** Draco Malfoy

**Registry Number:** 625369

**Date:** 21/08/01

**Age:** 22

**Mate:** Almost found him, but still N/A

**Current Location:** London, England, recently returned from the United States

**Number of Sexual Encounter(s):** 26

**Name(s) of Partner(s):** Seamus Finnegan 1(M), Smith Michael 25(M)

**Age(s) of Partner(s):** 22, 25

**Species of Partner(s):** both were wizards

**Description of Sexual Encounter(s): **Finnegan was good in the bedroom, very poor out of it. Smith you are familiar with, as I have already owled you about him. I thought he was my mate, but he is merely a companion with whom I can be comfortable. He is a magnificent lover as well as an excellent musician and I hope to continue contact with him in the future.

**Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s):** Yes

**If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects: **Various sensual spells, some of which were in English. Did you know that the Americans do all their spellwork in English? Smith told me that the only Latin spells known there are illegal. We had an amusing afternoon teaching each other spells in both languages. All pertaining to sex, of course.

**Did any encounter result in pregnancy: Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate:** Of course, all though I was interested and slightly disappointed to find that the Americans are not as susceptible to its influence as Europeans are. I imagine it has something to do with veela not being native to the country.

**Comments:** If you happen to see Potter in the near future, please inform him that I do possess a heart, but that I am not inclined to handle emotional outbursts well and would appreciate it if he refrained from them from now on.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** Department of Magical Creatures Case #645369

**Author:** rons­­pigwidgeon (AKA: feltonxmalfoy)

**Beta:** domtheknight

**Pairing:** DM/RW (eventually), DM/EM, DM/SF, DM/TH, DM/JFF, DM/CW, DM/multipleOMC's, RW/3OMC's, HG/OMC, BW/FD

**Chapter:** Six

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** slash, swearing, sexual acts

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary**: At 21, Draco Malfoy is on a journey to find his life mate, but is delayed by pesky Hufflepuffs screaming 'regulations' and 'laws'. Please, Malfoys play by their own rules.

**A/N:** Re-edited and re-uploaded 31/03/2008

* * *

Justin had read through the report at least a dozen times without managing to take in more than a handful of words, movement out of the corner of his eye was a welcome distraction. Until he looked up to see Orin bent nearly in half over a filing cabinet, searching through the very bottom drawer. Suppressing the urge to growl in frustration, he forced himself to look away from the blatant display of perfect arse. Orin was always doing that, bending over files, desks, cabinets, anything that he could find really, when he could just as easily summon whatever he was looking for with a quick flick of his wand and no gratuitous exhibition of arse. Justin knew he was doing it simply because he enjoyed the slow sexual torture it forced his ex-lover to watch, but the knowledge was not compensation.

Ignoring the burgeoning tent in his robes, Justin distracted himself by absently wondering if it was possible to die of sexual frustration. Especially since he knew that it would never be relieved. He was never going to touch that arse in all its pale, smooth perfection again. His heart clenched a little every time the thought came into his head. He had given up his fiancée, his home, his family, his very sexual identity for this man, and now here he was, all alone and forced to endure daily mocking from a man who had broken his heart.

Arthur entered the office with his usual bright smile and was half-way to opening his mouth to say something when he noticed the pained look in Justin's eyes as he flicked glances at Orin, bent over a filing cabinet. The smile fell from his lips and he walked to Justin's desk, effectively blocking the boy's view of his co-worker. He gave him a comforting smile and leant over the desk to speak in a lowered voice. "How would you like to get out of the office for an hour or two? I've just got a memo about a singing mirror in a muggle men's lavatory in Surrey and I need someone to go and sort it out."

Recognizing the reprieve for what it was and grateful that it had been offered, Justin smiled up at his boss. "That would be lovely. What's the address?"

Twenty minutes later he found himself standing at the entrance to a shopping center in Woking, looking around in search of any suspicious teenagers who might have thought it amusing to charm a muggle mirror to sing and scare the muggles. He no longer understood what some teenagers found entertaining. He and his friends certainly never would have thought pranking muggles was amusing. Of course, if his mother had ever heard he had been doing anything of the sort, she'd have boxed his ears and confined him to the house for a month.

Shaking his head of the thoughts, he proceeded into the building. The lavatory in question was roped off with muggle caution tape just as the memo Arthur had given him said it would be. He could hear faint murmurs of a woman's voice coming from the closed door and he made a quick sweep for on-lookers before slipping inside. The crooning words of Celestina Warbeck hit his ears immediately, coming from the back wall where a line of mirrors hung over the sinks. Three silencing charms and a Finite later the mirror was still belting out "Your Love's Like a Stake in my Heart". Confused, Justin bent closer to examine the mirror only to realize that whoever had pulled this prank had used a wizarding mirror charmed with anti-silencing spells and not simply charmed the muggle mirror to sing. He undid the sticking spell and shrunk the mirror to fit in his pocket before transfiguring a loo roll into a replacement and attaching it the muggle way. He caste a quick muffling charm over his pocket to quell the now softened melody audible through the fabric before exiting, making sure to remove the caution tape and dispose of it in the nearest bin before leaving.

The entire job had only taken half an hour, but Justin knew that Arthur wouldn't be expecting him back until after lunch, and, not particularly keen to return to his sexual torment just yet, he decided to go back to his flat for a bit. He apparated into a back alley down the street from his building and stopped at a small sandwich shop to pick something up to eat. Equipped with a greaseproof paper-wrapped sandwich and a smile at the sunny day, he meandered on to his building and up to his floor. His smile fell upon entering the tiny, silent flat. He hated coming home to silence nearly as deafening as a tomb. There had always been some sort of noise before. When he lived at home, it had been the telly on some soap that his mother was addicted to. With Millie, it was Maurice, the sheep dog she had taken in the break up without allowing him even visitation rights, barking and nearly bowling him over every time he opened the front door. After he'd come out and been veritably shunned by his family, he'd moved into the Burrow, and there had always been noise there, be it pans clattering in the sink as they cleaned themselves or Molly chattering away as soon as she heard the door open. Now he was only greeted by creaking floors and distant car horns. Sighing to himself, he trudged into the kitchen to find a plate and a packet of crisps before flopping onto the sofa in front of the telly.

* * *

The rough scratching of quills on parchment and the fluttering of obnoxious memos had been the only sounds to penetrate the office for at least the last two hours and Terence was about to set his stack of parchment on fire just for the entertainment value. His staff all looked unaware of the monotony of constantly reading over children's follies and sending out warnings for silly things like transfiguring the neighbour's dog into a pin cushion or levitating a sister's dolly onto the roof. Looking across at his assistant, Miranda, he began to wonder when the last time she had been fucked was. Probably years ago, back when she was just out of Hogwarts. She probably had doxies nesting beneath that skirt. The thought made him shiver disgustedly and he turned to the three other women that worked for him, all in their forties and all tolerably attractive, but they all had brats and liked to show him pictures of them as if he cared to see them. His eyes moved to the one man in the office, Parkinson, left over from Hopkirk's regime. The decrepit man looked to be nearing 150 with no signs of retirement. Terence found himself hoping every morning when he opened the office door that Miranda would tell him the man had died in his sleep the night before. And yet he lived on.

Looking down at his parchment again, he quickly signed the bottom and watched as the warning quill came to life, writing out an efficient notice to the thirteen-year-old Igor Marshland informing him that hexing the family kneazle to dance the jig was a misuse of underage magic. As the parchment folded itself and sped off to find an owl to dispatch it, he turned with a quirk of his lip to his agenda book and quickly scribbled 'Hire young, fit man at the earliest opportunity' into the notes section and stood to languidly stretch.

"I'm going to take these finished notices down to processing, anyone have any I can take for them?" He grabbed the stack of parchments in his finished box and turned to his employees. Miranda smiled and handed him a short stack of her own, but the others shook their heads, all too busy to even look up. All's the better, he supposed, heading out of the oppressive office and down the corridor to the filing room. After depositing the notices, he wandered down to the Muggle Artifacts office. Orin was always up for a romp in the broom cupboard, and even if he couldn't get him alone, it was always worth flaunting their flirtation in front of Finch-Fletchly.

Sticking his head through the office door, he was pleased to see Orin alone, sitting at his desk with a pile of work in front of him. Grinning, he slipped into the room and shut the door behind him. "Finch-Fletchly out to lunch, is he?"

Orin looked up, startled, and a seductive smile slithered onto his lips. "Out on a job. What are you doing here?"

"Hoping you could relieve my mind-numbing boredom..." He drawled, moving over to the desk and perching on the edge of it, a hand lazily trailing down to trace the beginning bulge in his trousers. Orin followed his hand, licking his lips in anticipation. "If you aren't busy, that is."

"I might be able to spare you a few minutes..." He stood up and right into Terence's personal space, eyes hooded with lust. "If you lock the door, that is. Wouldn't want Arthur to barge in with one of those memos, now would we?"

"No, we most definitely would not." Terence didn't even glance a look at the door as he put Colloportus on it, too busy invading Orin's mouth with his tongue.

Justin flooed back to the Ministry feeling somewhat less depressed, having spent the hour allotted for his lunch watching a re-run of his favourite show. He took the lift up to his floor and headed down the hallway to the office door only to find it closed. His eyes narrowed in anger, knowing what he would find when he walked in, but that did not stop him from pushing the door open. Just as he had suspected, Orin sat on his desk with Terence Higgs nestled between his legs, snogging the life out of him; both looked sufficiently rumpled to have been shagging for most of the time he had been gone and neither seemed predisposed to notice his entrance. He cleared his throat loudly and walked to his desk, trying to gloss over any hurt their embrace caused him with irritation.

Higgs smirked at him lasciviously. "I love how people that aren't getting fucked on a regular basis always find it necessary to interfere with those that are. It's pathetic, really. It isn't our fault you're jealous of us."

Justin gritted his teeth and struggled to keep his voice even. "This is an office, not a brothel. If you want to engage in sexual behaviour, take your lunch at home. I have work to do, and so, I suppose, do you."

Higgs snarled in response. "Stop pretending that you have authority over me, we both know you don't. I'll get back to work if and when I please."

"Be that as it may, Orin works under me and I know that he does have work to do, so if you'd kindly leave." He gave Orin a pointed look, but Orin only rolled his eyes and nudged Higgs a few inches back so that he could slide off the desk.

"Lighten up, Justin, we were just snogging. You don't have that much hold over me," he huffed, plopping into his chair. Justin chose not to respond, opting instead to begin documenting the toilet incident. Higgs glared at his bent head and leaned over Orin to whisper a promise of a later rendezvous before sucking on the spot behind his ear, making him give a half moan/half giggle and inch away from the ticklish touch. Justin glanced up at the noise and caught the tail end of the intimate moment. His heart clenched just a bit, but he quickly looked away when Higgs looked up and grinned viciously at the site of him spying; he left a moment later.

* * *

Arthur was whistling the theme to that lovely muggle moving picture, Star Wars, as he made his way down to his old office, beyond pleased that the transfer he had patiently been plotting out had finally come through that morning. Orin was fiddling with a muggle watch that had been hexed to shoot painful little sparks every time the second hand stopped at sixty and Justin was idly watching him over a pile of scrolls with a tiny, wistful frown crushing the corner of his mouth. They both looked up at his entrance. "Morning boys, lovely day today."

Justin smiled warmly at him while Orin scowled, though he was obviously trying to hide it. The boy was always complaining that they weren't allowed an enchanted window, but it wasn't anything Arthur could authorize and so he ignored it. "Any memos yet?" Justin asked in a hopeful voice, leaving Arthur no doubt that all his orchestrating had not been for nothing.

"No, nothing so far, but it's early. I would like to speak to you about something in my office, though, if you aren't busy."

"Not busy, just going over some paperwork. I'm sure Orin can handle the office by himself for a while." Orin flashed him a mocking smile before turning back to the watch. Justin ignored it and stood to go with Arthur. "What do you need?"

"I just want to discuss a few possible changes that I think may be to your liking." He flashed him a smile and they walked in amicable silence to his office. Once inside, they sat on opposite sides of the desk and Arthur poured them some tea. After they were both settled, Arthur began. "I know the last six months had been rather taxing on you, what with the situation with you parents and the on-going tension with Orin. I know you don't think I've noticed, but I see the way he treats you and I know it must be very difficult for you."

Justin looked as though he might protest but the older man quickly shushed him with a hand gesture.

"I would dismiss him if I could, but I, unfortunately, have no professional reason to. Instead, I have been working for the last several months on a way to remove you from the situation. I never mentioned anything because I did not want to get your hopes up only to disappoint you, but I just got a notice this morning that things have finally come through so that I have something solid for you."

"What is it?"

"The Muggle/Wizard Liaison office has an opening and they are willing to give the job to you if you'd like to transfer. You'll still be working in the Muggle Department, but you won't have to see Orin every day, and I think muggle/wizard liaisons would be a better fit for you. Any wizard could recover and stabilize muggle artefacts, but our relations with muggles are not always as competent as we would like and you'll have an advantage having been born into a muggle family."

Justin was quiet, too shocked at the sudden possibility of release. It would be nice to be able to interact with people again rather than simply removing objects from their homes and businesses with barely a word aside. Of course, transferring departments would mean that he would have to start all over again in training. Currently, all he had to do was identify and neutralise charmed or hexed muggle items, a job that only required skill with a wand. Working in Muggle/Wizard Liaisons would require him to learn a whole new set of rules and laws; what he could and could not tell a muggle, how to approach a hostile muggle, what the procedure was for using an obliviate (if he was even allowed to do so without contacting the Obliviators Squad first), and a million other regulations that he could not even begin to fathom. Would it be worth all the adjustments just to get away from his ex-lover? And who would take his place? Arthur was too busy heading all of the muggle relations departments anymore to focus on overseeing just Artefacts (Justin's presence in the office was the only reason he had in the past) and Orin couldn't be trusted to get any work done on his own, especially with Higgs wandering in every half hour for a shag.

Arthur, reading his surprise as hesitation, stumbled to bring more favour to the idea by mentioning the perks of a transfer. "Moving to Muggle/Wizard Liaisons would mean a marginal pay raise, not a lot, but it will be an improvement to what you make now. And you will be issued a Ministry vehicle for use while working. Wouldn't do to have you popping in and out suspiciously when dealing with the muggles, would it?" He grinned at the boy and was pleased to find the boy smiling back. Good, very good.

"No, it wouldn't, I suppose. Who would replace me, though? I don't know that Orin could handle the work by himself and you've got too much to do to go back to focusing just on our office."

"I've already gone through all the proper channels for finding a replacement; I just have a few final interviews to do. It should only take about another week for me to finalize things."

Justin looked down at his hands with a little smile. There wasn't much left to contemplate if he already had a replacement. The benefits were good enough to outweigh the difficulty of going through training once more. Really, he would probably go through anything short of castration to get away from Orin at this point. "When would I transfer?"

Arthur grinned, recognizing this as an acceptance of the new position, and shuffled around his desk to find the memo. "The director and I were speaking and we think it would be best for you to begin a week from Monday. That will give you enough time to settle any ongoing work you might be doing and for me to conduct the final interviews for your replacement. Does that sound all right?"

"That sounds perfect."

"Wonderful. We'll settle all the details for the transition on Monday." They shared a smile and moved on to other, more personal subjects, like Molly's upcoming birthday and the new poster tacked to Arthur's bulletin board advertising the twins' shop.

Justin left soon after the tea was finished, whistling to himself as he meandered back to his office. He was little surprised to open the door to find Orin backed into a filing cabinet by Higgs, who looked just about to take over his mouth. The hurt he normally felt at the scene was weakened by the knowledge that he would only have to walk into this sort of scene for another week. That in mind, he continued to whistle as he settled behind his desk, barely giving them a glance. Higgs stepped back, eyeing him suspiciously, while Orin settled his robes back to neatness from where Terence's hands had rumpled them.

"What's got you in such a chipper mood, Mudblood?"

Justin only grinned up at him, choosing not to acknowledge the rude name. "Arthur just informed me that I'm being transferred to a better department, which means I get paid more to see you less. How could I not be happy?"

Higgs sneered, but Orin looked intrigued, moving closer to Justin's desk. "Transferred where? Who's going to take your place? I don't want to run this entire office by myself."

"I don't know who's replacing me; Arthur's still got to interview the finalists. I can guarantee it won't be a man, though." He received a scowl in return, but ignored it and began to work, humming now to show that he thought the conversation over. His ex-lover's curiosity still had not been satisfied, though, and he slinked around the desk to perch on the edge at Justin's elbow. Terence leaned against the desk opposite to watch, a tiny, vindictive smirk on his face.

"You didn't say where you were going," Orin murmured, reaching up to trace patterns along the nape of Justin's neck, like he used to do while they waited for their heartbeats to settle after sex. Justin's entire body clenched at the familiar touch.

"Muggle/Wizard Liaisons, not that it's any of your business."

"But that's all the way on the other side of the hall. I'll never see you..."

"Yes, what a hardship it will be," he replied bitterly, trying very hard to ignore the fingers that had stopped tracing patterns in favour of slipping below the neckline of his robes. Orin pouted, trailing his fingers around to tangle in the sandy-brown chest hair he didn't need to see to remember the look of. Justin immediately pulled his hand out of his robes and rolled his chair away a few feet. "Don't."

The petit brunet rolled his eyes and pouted, moving closer once more. "You never let me touch you anymore. Is it because we stopped having sex? We could always start again..." He leaned in conspiratorially to whisper against the trembling man's ear. "Maybe we could even convince Terence to join us. He could fuck you while you fuck me. He's very good. And wouldn't you like to feel my tight little arse surrounding you again? Clenching just so, right before you come..."

Justin had closed his eyes, trembling fingers gripping the arms of his chair as he fought for composure. As much as he wanted these attentions again, he knew they were not real, and he would only be hurt if he allowed them to continue. "So you can break my heart again? No thank you."

There was a snort from across the room and Justin glared at the mocking smirk of Higgs. "Broke your heart? You're so pathetic, Finch-Fletchly, so Hufflepuff. Why would you ever think someone could love you? You're a Mudblood."

"And you're an arsehole. Go back to your own office, don't you have work to do? Unless an underage muggleborn has charmed his mother's tea cosy to do the cha-cha, you've no professional reason to be here."

"And yet, there is nothing you can do to stop me, is there, Finch-Fletchly?"

Clenching his teeth in an effort to mollify his anger, Justin reached around Orin for the parchment he had left on his desk when he went to speak with Arthur and proceeded to ignore Higgs' existence. "Orin, I believe you have work to do. Perhaps it would be best that you get to it before Arthur has to interview two replacements rather than one?"

Orin seemed to understand that he had reached the line he could not cross over without losing his job, and stood without a word to return to his desk. Terence looked as though he was not finished with the conversation, but a sharp look from the shorter man had him out of the door with only minimal grumbling. Though taunting the Mudblood was his second favourite past time, fucking was his first, and Orin was the best fuck in the Ministry. No need to lose that when he had work to do himself, anyways. Besides, it wasn't as though he couldn't just come back later and continue then.

* * *

**Date:** 04/09/01

**Age:** 22

**Mate:** N/A

**Current Location:** London, England

**Number of Sexual Encounter(s):** 3 1/2

**Name(s) of Partner(s):** Thomas Briggs 3(M), Artemis Fortescue 1/2 (M)

**Age(s) of Partner(s):** 23, 20

**Species of Partner(s):** both were wizards

**Description of Sexual Encounter(s):** Thomas was very sweet, but a bit possessive for my tastes. I don't know what I was thinking in allowing Fortescue into my bed; the little bastard was only interested in his own pleasure and angered me so badly that I threw him out before we had finished (or shall I say before he finished, as I do not believe he had any intention of making sure that I did, selfish ponce).

**Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s):** Yes

**If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects**: Nothing that has not been used before.

**Did any encounter result in pregnancy:**

**Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate:** Yes, for the usual means.

**Comments:** I will be taking Mother on holiday to the south of France for a month and have no intention of leaving her side for more than a few moments at a time for the entire trip. As this will disallow me to participate in sexual behavior, I will not be sending a form on the 18th or the 1st unless you absolutely require it, as they will be both be blank. In the unlikely case that something does happen that requires notification, I will owl you.

* * *

After a week of ceaseless busy work and near constant taunting flirtation from his ex-lover, walking into the Ministry of Magic with the knowledge that he never had to work with Orin again was like taking his first breath of fresh air after having been trapped in a cave. He hummed all the way through the long line for the lift, pleasantly nodding greetings to any of his acquaintances. He bumped into Ernie MacMillan in the lift and conversed with him all the way up to his floor. Ernie seemed distracted, as always, apparently over some veela who refused to follow protocol, but he still managed to congratulate Justin properly and promise to take him out for a pint in celebration. They parted with an agreement to meet that evening at the Leaky Cauldron.

Mr. Lanyer, the head of the Muggle/Wizard Liasons office, whom he had met early the previous week, greeted him at the door to the office with a warm smile. "All right there, Finch-Fletchly?"

"Great, you?" he responded with a grin.

"I'm more than all right. We're very happy to have you join our team. Come on in and I'll introduce you around and get you settled." He slapped Justin on the back and directed him into the office, gaining the interest of the room's two other occupants, who had been just settling in for the day. "You two, this is Justin Finch-Fletchly, our new transfer. He's been working in Muggle Artifacts for... How long was it? Four years?" Justin nodded in the affirmative. "You're a muggle-born, as well, aren't you?" Another nod. "All right then, you shouldn't have too difficult a time adjusting. This is Adrian Wilhaert, who mainly works with the games and sports department, and Gilbert Tillotson, who works everywhere else." Tillotson rolled his eyes, but smiled at Justin in greeting before turning back to his work. "And where's Winifred?"

"Late again, probably something with that oldest one of hers," groused the athletic-looking Wilhaert from his desk. Justin looked to Mr. Lanyer for an explanation, but none was forthcoming. Instead, he was directed to an empty desk in the corner and given a thin book of protocol to peruse as he settled in. The office slowly quieted of all shuffling until the only noise was the scratching of quills and the occasional shifting of parchment.

Justin was engrossed in the new regulations he was to learn, all fairly simple but different from what he had expected, and the noise of someone bustling into the room startled him. He looked up to see a flighty-looking witch in purple robes and miss-matched shoes walking in, her hands full of a messy stack of scrolls that all threatened to tumble away from her as she hurried to the only un-occupied desk in the room. "Sorry I'm late. Marvellina's minder had a gnome rebellion and I had to scramble to find someone to replace her."

Mr. Lanyer looked slightly put-out, but said nothing of it. "Winifred, this is Justin Finch-Fletchly, our new transfer. Justin, this is Winifred Lovegood, she handles our international muggle relations."

"Pleasure to meet you, dear," she greeted with a warm smile, tutting under her breath, 'Such a young thing...' Justin greeted her in turn and pretended to go back to his reading, only glancing back up at her when she was dully distracted with rebellious parchments rolling off the desk. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that her earrings were made of what looked like a set of salt and pepper shakers and her eyeliner was only half-done. Hmm...probably a relative of Luna's. This ought to be interesting, he thought with a faint smile as he went back to reading for real.

* * *

Miranda had already organised the morning post into personal and professional piles and had a cup of Earl Grey steaming next to the two stacks when he came in. Terence shuffled through the personal post first, since it was the shorter stack. Skipping through various missives from various ex-school friends and despised family members, he stopped at a pearlescent envelope embossed in gold lettering and trimming. Who would invite him to a wedding? All his straight friends were already married and his gay ones were too busy shagging everything with a dick to even consider a long-term relationship, let alone marriage. Curious, he opened the invitation to a flock of prim paper doves that fluttered up to the ceiling and mingled there for the remainder of the day. The expensive parchment inside hummed a rather bothersome Wedding March that he quickly spelled silent before reading:

Sir Walter and Regina Greengrass

Request the honour of your presence

at the marriage of their beloved daughter

Daphne Elizabeth

to Mr. Luben Dimitrof

son of

Prof. & Mrs. Dimitrof

on the 22nd of December, 2001

at 10.00

Greengrass Manor

Oxfordshire

Daphne Greengrass? He stared at the parchment in confusion; he didn't know anyone named Daphne.

"Miranda, do I know anyone named Daphne Greengrass?"

Miranda looked up from her own paperwork, studying him for a moment. "Isn't your mother friends with a Greengrass?"

"Is she?" He thought for a moment and then a picture of a smirking, flirting minx of a woman, who always sat too close to his father for his mother's comfort, came to him. "Ah, yes, I think I remember her. I didn't think Mother much liked her, though. Why is she inviting me to her daughter's wedding?"

"Pureblood etiquette, I would imagine. If the Greengrasses are anything like your parents, they'll want as many people as possible at their daughter's wedding."

"Mmm, I suppose you're right..." He continued to muse over the parchment.

"Are you going to go?"

"Perhaps... Will you buy the present if I do?" He gave her a wicked grin and she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Of course I will, seeing as you are hopeless with anything remotely domestic."

He thanked her with an exaggerated blown kiss and a wink, and then set about filling in the reply card. As priggish as the woman could be, he had her wrapped around his little finger with the simplest of flirtation. Fool.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title:** Department of Magical Creatures Case #645369

**Author:** ronspigwidgeon (AKA: feltonxmalfoy)

**Beta:** domtheknight

**Pairing:** DM/RW (eventually), DM/EM, DM/SF, DM/TH, DM/JFF, DM/CW, DM/multipleOMC's, RW/3OMC's, HG/OMC, BW/FD

**Chapter:** Seven

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** slash, swearing, sexual acts

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** At 21, Draco Malfoy is on a journey to find his life mate, but is delayed by pesky Hufflepuffs screaming 'regulations' and 'laws'. Please, Malfoys play by their own rules.

**AN:** I guess I forgot to mention this because everyone that reads this on my lj already knows, but there's a very good reason that it took so long for me to get chapter 7 out. I was in Italy, Greece, and Scotland for almost a month traveling while I waited for my university to allow me back in my dorm room. And then I didn't have internet for two weeks once I was in my dorm room :sigh: No one go to the University of Kent, it's crap and I am so glad I'm leaving in a week. So yeah, didn't abandon the story, no thoughts of possibly doing that, I've already written out the final chapter so it WILL be finished, don't worry. There are just some.. delays. Right. Anyways...

**A/N 2:** Re-edited and re-uploaded 31/03/2008

* * *

Draco wandered out onto the veranda, idly flipping through the morning post that Tinker had just delivered to him. He found his mother perched in her usual chair, large umbrella shading her from the morning sun, delicately nibbling on a chocolate croissant. They shared a warm greeting as he joined her at the breakfast table, and he passed a few correspondences to her before continuing to shift through his own post. He was surprised to find a wedding invitation at the bottom and grinned to himself. He hadn't known that Daphne was engaged. "Mother, do you remember Daphne Greengrass? I went to Hogwarts with her. I think you knew her mother."

"Yes, Regina. She always tried to make advances on your father." Narcissa scrunched her nose in annoyance and set her fork down as if the very idea had put her off her pastry. Draco smiled faintly, remembering the diatribes his mother used to give anyone who came within ten metres of Lucius with lascivious intent.

"Yes, well, it appears that Daphne is to be married."

"Really? We can only hope that Regina does not make advances towards i _him /i _. Who is it, dear?"

"No idea, I haven't opened the envelope yet." He did so without hesitation to a flock of paper doves that fluttered around Narcissa's head before drifting off into the breeze. A warmth flooded Draco's heart as his mother smiled at the little birds, a glow about her that he had not seen since before Lucius was imprisoned. It was a minute before he could pull himself back to the present and read the invitation. "Luben Dimitrof; the name doesn't sound familiar, but I imagine he went to Durmstrung."

"I hope for her sake that he is not of Igor's sort."

"I doubt it; Daphne hated anything to do with the war. Besides, they're all either in prison, dead, or hiding from Potter, which means they will be joining their associates rather soon."

"Is he an Auror now?"

"From what the papers say, he's _the_ Auror. And you can certainly see it; he looks absolutely dreadful, not that I can recall a time when he looked well."

"You've seen him? You never mentioned that."

"I didn't think it of consequence. We've only run into each other a few times and never for long." She made no further comment and he turned back to the invitation. "It says I am permitted a date. Would you like to come with me?" It was a long shot, he knew, and he could see by the look of hesitation and chastisement on her face that getting his way was going to be an uphill battle.

"I think it would be best if you found a suitable young man to accompany you, don't you agree? You know that I am no longer comfortable socializing with those people."

"I know, Mother, they are awful, but I will be there, and you have been absent from society for too long. It is unhealthy to stay in doors and only interact with house elves. Father would not have wanted you to live the rest of your life in this self-imposed isolation. He would want you to be out and about, causing gossip. You remember how much pleasure he found in reading a new story about you in Witch Weekly."

Her look turned ever darker at the mention of Lucius. "I prefer my solitude. The only society I am interested in is yours."

Momentarily deciding not to push the issue, he nodded solemnly and set the invitation aside. He would treat this argument as he had treated the potion in her tea, with patience and artful periodic suggestion. For now it was best to continue with breakfast. "Shall we have lunch at the little bistro in town today?"

"Yes, I think that would be lovely."

* * *

The wedding had been beautiful in its own way, though Draco had difficulty calling the more Bulgarian influences 'beautiful', and it had been over fairly quickly as far as traditional weddings go. He only wished he could have convinced his mother to come, she used to love weddings. Now at the reception in the Greengrass ballroom, he was pleased to greet Daphne and her new husband. "Daphne, you are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen," he told her as he hugged her and kissed her cheek.

"I'm the only bride you've ever liked," she responded with a giggle, hugging him back.

"Don't spoil the compliment, love. Introduce me to your fit new husband, here."

Beaming, the brunette looped a hand through Luben's arm. "Draco, this is Luben. Luben, this is Draco Malfoy. Draco and I went to Hogwarts together."

"It is nice to meet you." The Bulgarian gave him a kind—as kind as any former Durmstrang student was capable of—smile, though his thickly-accented words sounded forced. Draco had a suspicion that his English was limited, but he looked to be of good breeding and his eyes turned to adoration upon sight of Daphne, so he supposed the man would do.

"Likewise, I'm glad to see that Daphne has chosen well. Although I warn you, treat her poorly and you will be faced with a few missing limbs." He gave an amused smile to the looked of confused horror on the Bulgarian's face, kissed a laughing Daphne's cheek once more, and bid leave to mingle.

* * *

Draco was smiling flirtatiously at Blaise Zabini, hand on his arm and body closer than what was necessarily socially acceptable, intent on the black man's talk about vampire society in Italy. Draco had always been enraptured by Blaise, his elegant speech, his piercing eyes, the glow of his dark skin; the new, ethereal aura about him only furthered the captivation. It really was unfortunate about the undead issue; he would have given anything to bed this beautiful man.

"Does the wizarding government there monitor you like the Ministry does?" he asked.

"They sniff around a bit whenever a corpse is left, but for the most part they leave us to do as we please, as long as we do not over-feed on our mortals."

"And have you ever… over-fed?" He fluttered his eyelashes up at the vampire, his tone dripping with sexuality. Even if his veelan influence was nullified by vampire blood, he could at least flaunt his physical attributes.

Blaise's eyes twinkled with amusement. "There have been a few rumours, but nothing anyone was able to confirm."

"It is perhaps a good thing that you have chosen to follow your sire back to Italy, then. Had you remained here, I'm almost certain the Ministry would have executed you on mere rumour alone."

"Indeed? The Ministry's policy on magical creatures was never particularly of interest to me while I still lived here."

"Mmm, they are horrid about treatment to our kind here. They are even strict with my own race, as though we have ever done anything but break a few hearts."

"Really?"

"Indeed, I am forced to fill out these ghastly forms, enquiring about my sexual activity. It's all incredibly intrusive."

"They sound unpleasant. Perhaps you should come to Italy with me. The Italians wouldn't know what to do with you." He grinned mischievously and Draco moved closer with a similar smile.

"Perhaps I shall."

* * *

More tactfully ruthless flirtation later found Draco pressed into an alcove somewhere between the ballroom and the toilet, mouth under siege. Blaise had attacked him with inhuman speed, and though he had been anticipating the assault with bated breath for two hours, the speed of it had still come as a shock. Not that he would complain had he been able to get anything more than a coo out in the last ten minutes; he was extremely pleased with the proceedings. His hands were gripping Blaise's considerably built arms, clinging to him as lips moved to his jaw and then his neck. A sharp set of teeth scratched against his throat, but didn't penetrate. His body began to tingle with excitement; he had heard that the bite of a vampire was better than the sex itself, almost a hallucinogen. Just when Blaise's tongue began lapping at his jugular and was sure to sink his teeth in at any moment, he pulled away slightly, panting, and Draco had to suppress the surge to scream in frustration.

"We have to stop, I can't do this." His breath was ragged and he hadn't pulled far enough away to make eye contact, telling Draco that he didn't want what he was saying.

"Why not? We don't have to tell anyone. I won't report it."

"No, I truly can not. I could not… find completion without blood and I cannot bite you."

"You most certainly can! If the rumours are true, I would very much like you to."

Blaise growled and attacked his neck again, still without biting, but with a tenacity that had Draco squirming in pleasure. As soon as the cooing began again, however, he pulled away. "No, I can not. I would die. Veela blood is a poison to my kind."

Draco abruptly pushed him far enough away for eye contact. "Excuse me?"

"An unfortunate trick of nature to assure that our species do not interbreed."

Frustrated, Draco knocked his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "Are you sure there's no way around the need for blood?"

"No." Not about to accept that, he began to think, fingers tracing circles at the back of Blaise's bald head and nose dipping to nuzzle his neck. "We can't," Blaise whispered as he trailed fingertips down the blond's flanks and up inside his robes.

"Give me a moment, I'm thinking." He began fluttering kisses across dark skin and soon they were kissing again, less hurriedly this time. "What if you had someone else to bite while we were together? Would that be all right?"

"I suppose it could work. Do you have anyone in mind?"

"No, but tell me which room you've been assigned and I'll meet you in twenty minutes." With a wicked grin, a quick kiss, and the requested directions, he slinked off to find a pliable victim. The reception was still at full tilt when Draco returned. He scanned the room for likely candidates and alighted on a group of four young men talking near the refreshments table. He sauntered over under the guise of getting a drink and was pleased to find three of the four watching him as he selected a glass of champagne. Of the three he recognized, Terence Higgs whom he had replaced as seeker in his second year and Lionardo Buonarrati, a former Deatheater whom he remembered through meetings and dinners with Lucius, though he was unsure of the man's age. The third was short and brunet and apparently somewhat attached to Terence's side. Terence seemed oblivious to this as his eyes followed every one of Draco's movements.

"Draco, it's been a long time," Buonarrati greeted, extending his hand.

Draco eyed the hand, but forwent touching him in favour of a nod. "Indeed, I've not seen the likes of you since Father died. And I don't remember ever giving you permission to use my Christian name."

"Why don't you join us?" Terence interjected before Draco could turn away.

"Introduce me to your friends and I'll consider it."

Terence grinned and indicated each as he introduced the short one as Orin Callahan and the attractive, though obviously extremely straight (as that would be the only explanation for his complete disinterest in Draco), Roger Mortimer.

"Roger was just telling us about his work with Puddlemere United."

"Was he. My uncle's brother is the manager. What do you do for them?"

Draco wasn't entirely sure, but the man looked a bit on edge and he avoided meeting the blond's eyes. "I'm the head accountant, not very exciting, but I get box seats for all their matches."

"Do you? How convenient." Roger nodded, but looked away without further comment. Draco raised an eyebrow and turned to Terence. He was looking like the best opportunity, despite his little hanger-on. "You know, Terence, I haven't seen you since you left school. What have you been up to?"

"I took over the Improper Use of Magic Office when that old cow, Hopkirk, retired."

"Really? That is quite an ambitious step into the Minestry. I presume you are now the dispatcher of those obnoxious letters sent to children who were simply trying to learn?"

Terence grinned. "I wonder what you were trying to 'learn'. Yes, I sign the letters, though I have a staff to deal with most of them. Better than Orin, though, he works with muggle artefacts."

Draco looked askance at the smaller man. "I thought that was a Weasley job."

"Nope, he runs the whole muggle department now. I'm not planning on staying longer than I have to, though. I can't stand muggles." Draco wasn't sure, but he thought he might be lying. Probably worshiped the ground Arthur Weasley walked on, even more reason to ostracize him from Terence and get Terence into Blaise's bed with him.

"Of course, who would i _choose /i _to work with muggles?"

Orin looked slightly affronted. "What do you do?"

"Do? As in work?" The blond laughed at the very thought of him in a conventional career. "I manage my family's estate and attend charity events, travel, that sort of thing. I don't think anyone in my family has found the necessity for a career in over a thousand years."

Orin appeared cowed by the decisive dismissal, but Mortimer only rolled his eyes; Draco narrowed his in return. Whoever this Mortimer person was, he was going to find his job rather difficult to hold onto rather soon. Impatient and still a bit bothered from leaving Blaise, he turned back to Terence, but was interrupted before he opened his mouth by a female voice. "Draco Malfoy, look at you! You know, I think you may turn out even more attractive than your father was. How are you?" Regina Greengrass asked as she looped an arm through his, standing closer to him than he liked.

"I am doing splendidly. This is a magnificent reception and Daphne looks beautiful." And he wasn't even lying. Women in general were not his favourite members of the wizarding race, but Daphne had always held a special place in his heart and she did look radiant in her perfectly-tailored while robes.

"She does look lovely, doesn't she?" The rest of the group quickly agreed, all eyes turning to the glowing bride gliding across the dance floor with her new husband, who looked elated, if a bit stiff about the shoulders. "You know, I do think they have the idea. Why don't we join them?"

Aghast at the very idea, he looked for an excuse and laid eyes on Mortimer. "You know, I would love to, but I distinctly remember Roger here just saying that he would love a dance. Didn't you, Roger?" He smiled maliciously at the sputtering man.

Mortimer could only nod, obviously not wanting to offend his host by refusing. Delighted, Regina quickly swept him away in a whirlwind of pink taffeta robes. Draco took the opportunity to slink his arm into Terence's. "Why don't we take their lead, hmm?" Pheromones and a quick tug had him following without protest, leaving a sullen Orin and furious Buonarroti behind. Ignoring them both, he made sure to be pressed close to Terence and they began to dance.

"It's been too long, Malfoy. If I had known you would turn out this well, I would have paid more attention to you at Hogwarts."

"Is that so? And how would you have done that? Would you have shown me the secret ways of a seeker? Let me have a ride on your brookstick?" His voice lowered seductively as he arched up to whisper in the taller man's ear, "Would you like to now?"

Terence looked taken aback before a lascivious grin crept onto his lips. "Don't waste time, do you?"

"I believe in being explicit about what I want if the situation does not appear to require tact."

"And this one doesn't?" He didn't seem offended by the notion.

"No. Does that bother you?"

"Not at all, where do you want me?" Pleased, Draco took his hand and led him up towards Blaise's room, only to be tugged back halfway there and kissed within an inch of his life. He pushed the man gently away, clucking his tongue at him.

"If you start that now, we'll never make it to the room."

"Can't help it, you're irresistible."

"Naturally, but come along. I prefer beds." A few more chastisements and they were at the room. Blaise was lounging on the bed, sheets barely covering his glistening expanse of skin, and Draco's whole body began to tingle in anticipation again. "Blaise, you remember Terence Higgs." They wore matching grins as they turned to Terence, who was stalled in the doorway, possibly in shock. Impatient, Draco moved towards the bed, disrobing as he went. "I hope you aren't planning to stand there all night, it's already past one."

"What is this?" Terence choked out when he finally found his voice.

"Sex. Were you planning on participating or not?" Blaise had already pulled him onto the bed and was slowly making his way down the blond's body. The feelings this incensed brought out his pheromones all at once and, thankfully, Terence as well.

* * *

Perhaps the voices were not necessary when he was perfectly aware that the person he was sleeping with was not his mate because he was content to remain cocooned in Blaise's arms for the rest of his life. It was nearing dawn, though, and he knew that Blaise had to leave before then.

"Come to Italy with me. We can find a willing third and just be together. I'll show you all the wonderful things Italy has to offer and maybe you can avoid the Ministry for a while."

He nudged under his ear and whispered back, "I have to be home for Christmas, but after that, I would love to."

"Good. I have to leave in a few minutes, but I'll owl you where to go."

"Don't leave, we'll seal the windows closed and stay in bed all day. "

"I would love to do just that, but I must return to Italy before daybreak. And besides, I do not believe the Greengrasses would appreciate our overstaying our welcome, no?"

"I suppose not." They lay in silence for a little longer before Blaise began to get up. Draco pulled him down for one more kiss before he could stand, but then he was getting dressed and leaving.

A loud snore alerted Draco to the other presence in the bed, Terence, who had been against cuddling and preferred to fall into a deep sleep on the other side of the bed. The veela leaned up on one elbow to study him. There was nothing particularly fetching about him, at least not to Draco's eyes, but he did have a certain presence, arrogance, about him that intrigued the blond. Perhaps he could try to see if they had any chemistry; they hadn't interacted much while Blaise was there. He let out a few pheromones in hopes that they would have the desired effect. They did. Terence rolled towards him and pulled him close, drawn to the veela even in his sleep.

* * *

Higgs collapsed onto his back, boneless, panting, sweating—heavy. Draco made a noise in protest and tried to nudge him off, nerves screaming to get as far away from the animal as possible, and finally succeeded in rolling him off after a minute. The blond immediately got up and headed for the bathroom. "Where are you going? Give me ten minutes and we'll have another go," Higgs protested.

"Absolutely not; I'm going to shower and then I am leaving."

He apparently had not noted the repulsion in the blond's voice, because he made a move to join him. "Shower sounds good."

"Mine will be alone. You are not to touch me again," he said caustically, nerves in an uproar at having been touched by him at all. Draco wasn't quite sure why his body was so violent in its repulsion of Higgs, but he was not about to argue; he had already learned his lesson with the Stiggens debacle. He slammed the door behind him and took a quick shower, scrubbing himself almost raw to get the abhorrent scent of Higgs off his skin. When he re-emerged in just a towel, he unexpectedly found himself in an embrace that the voices were none too pleased about.

"What's got you all out of sorts? You locked the door on me."

"I am no longer interested, remove yourself from my person." He pushed the taller man away, summoning his clothing and quickly pulling them on.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? I thought we were going to have another go."

"You thought wrong."

"But you're a sex demon, shouldn't you want it all the time?"

Draco looked sharply up. "Sex demon! Are you an imbecile? I am not an Incubus, I'm a veela, and veela are by no means demons, nor do we feed off of sex. We simply enjoy having it… a lot… with the right partner. Which you are not."

"Veela? So you're really a woman? I should have known will all that simpering and whining you do in bed."

Draco had gone very still at the word 'woman', body tensed, jaw like a snapping turtle on its prey, hand clenched onto his wand. Suddenly, he struck with a string of curses that turned Higgs into an impotent, boil-covered, half-carp with singed pubic hair. "I am not a I _woman /i _!" he growled out before leaving his victim flopping for purchase with his new fin on the floor while crying for his mother.

* * *

Barneby was practically bounding in place as Draco entered through the front doors and quickly took his cloak. "Good afternoon, Barneby. Has anyone arrived yet?"

The little elf beamed at him. "Yes, Master Draco. The Murray family is in the parlour with Mistress."

Draco scowled at the name. "Just Aunt Antigone and Benedict or her daughters and their husbands, as well?"

"They is all there, Master Draco."

"And the DeVerills have not arrived yet?"

"No, Master Draco."

"Good, then Mother has only been subjected to one constantly trying individual rather than two. Please try to delay the DeVerills for as long as possible once they arrive, and you know your orders in regards to Dion."

"Yes, Master Draco." Draco nodded in satisfaction before the elf popped out to put away his cloak, and made his way to the Manor's finest parlour, where he knew the others would be. There had been a time when the parlour had played host to dignateries and celebrities from around the world, but now it only held the remains of the Malfoy family Christmas: two tedious sisters and their children and, in Aunt Perdita's case, grandchildren. As a rule, Draco liked the majority of his cousins; they were unobtrusive, respectful, and they understood who the head of the family was. His aunts were another matter entirely. Actually, Aunt Antigone was the one who tried his patience; Aunt Perdita was a meek, mild woman, prone to allowing anyone and everyone to walk all over her. It was for that reason that Lucius had always been under the suspicion that his second eldest sister was not entirely legitimate, but he always lacked the proper evidence to prove it and Draco hadn't the interest to further pursue the possibility. No, Aunt Perdita in herself was not tedious, but her immediate relations, her husband, Dion DeVerill, and her daughter, Alleta's, husband, Proteus Smith, were both as equally bad as the other, DeVerill for his excessive drinking and Smith for his excessive, unfounded arrogance. Proteus almost made his cousin, Zacharias, look humble in comparison. Upon reaching the door, he took a deep breath in preparation for the day to come and turned the nob to enter the room.

Aunt Antigone, with all her usual gall, was seated at the head of the room in the chair next to the fire that Draco still remembered his grandfather, Abraxas, sitting in when he was alive. Lucius had only used the chair on the rare occasion that Narcissa was away from the Manor, otherwise preferring to sit with her on a settee, but that did not mean that Aunt Antigone had any right to take its place. Eldest daughter to Abraxas she may have been, but she was still a daughter, and therefore not the head of the family. He knew she knew this, as well, knew that by all rights she was sitting in i _his_ /i chair, but the woman still resented the fact that the inheritance had gone away from her and her children, and therefore took every opportunity to assert whatever little amount of authority she could.

Her eldest daughter, Veronique, had married their third cousin, Tristan Malfoy, in what Draco suspected was a bid on Aunt Antigone's part to succeed where her son, Benedict, had failed, and was therefore not present. Tristan, as the heir to whatever fortune Abraxas' brother had managed to procure, was obligated to attend the other Malfoy gathering--as Lucius always enjoyed calling it, the illegitimate Malfoy gathering. Their absence meant that the only other people currently in the room were Imogene, Aunt Antigone's second oldest daughter, and her husband, Philario Zabini, whom Draco liked very much, as he was Blaise's older brother.

Narcissa was settled into the settee she had used to share with Lucius, looking lost in a sea of Aunt Antigone's words. "Draco, you've come! You look lovely, my love." She was glowing in warmth again, her arms outstretched to him. He swiftly strode across the room and slipped into her embrace.

"I've missed you, Mother. You're looking radiant. I hope I have not kept the party long." He kissed her cheek before turning to the group. Aunt Antigone looked on him with her usual irritation; she hated him for the simple fact that he was Lucius' son, that Lucius had been male rather than her, that, though she was oldest, she got none of the privileges that she felt she deserved, and most of all she hated him because he kept her quarter-veela son from inheriting the Manor. Never even mind that he was ineligible to be heir with so little blood.

Benedict, who sat haughtily near his mother in a chair that rather engulfed his small frame, never seemed bothered by his status, content to learn his lessons, reign over his cronies, and generally be a Malfoy cousin. Of course, he had only just turned eleven. Draco was sure there would be a bid once he neared adulthood; he was strikingly like Draco had been after all.

"I see that you have finally graced us with your presence."

Forcing himself not to roll his eyes, he nodded as an acknowledgment to his aunt. "Aunt Antigone, you're looking as… austere as ever. I would beg forgiveness for my lateness, but I would first remind you that I no longer live at the Manor."

"Yes, well, I do not understand why that should be. I always thought the heir lived in the Manor. Had Benedict been the heir, he would have stayed."

"Benedict is not yet at Hogwarts and I am an adult. When I find my mate and am ready to settle, I will return, but for now I think it proper to live away."

Aunt Antigone gave a look of persisting disapproval, but said nothing. It was Philario who was the one to speak instead, not surprising as his diplomatic manner, much the same as his younger brother, Blaise, often found him playing family mediator. "I think Draco is right to be on his own. Living alone will help him to become a better head of the family."

Draco smiled in thanks while Antigone just looked annoyed and changed the subject. "Narcissa, have you informed the house elves that the tea is not to be brewed naturally? We are not muggles."

"Actually, I asked the house elves to do so; I like my tea brewed without magic. The flavour disagrees otherwise," Draco said, irritated.

Antigone looked scandalised, as though he had said he wanted to snap his wand. "Are you a wizard or not?"

"I am; I simply do not like the taste left in my mouth after tasting magically brewed tea. It is a matter of preference and not a conversion to a muggle lifestyle."

"Well, I prefer it the traditional way."

"Then, by all means, the house elves will brew yours to taste." The conversation continued in the same vein of petty complaints for half an hour before they were interrupted by the belated entrance of the DeVerills. It appeared that Aunt Perdita's awful husband had already dipped far into the scotch as he wavered slightly in his entrance and sprawled inelegantly in an armchair. Perdita entered after him, quickly slipping onto a footstool near him without a word. The Smiths were not far behind, the children moving gracefully into the places in front of cousin Alleta and Smith. The usual dry greetings made the rounds and tea was served to the new arrivals.

"Draco, I heard some stories about you and a little mischief you got into at the Greengrass wedding a few days ago, with Philario's younger brother if I'm not mistaken." Dion grinned lecherously at him, sending a chill of discomfort down the veela's spine.

"I haven't the slightest idea as to what you might be alluding to."

"So you didn't have a three—"

"That is a highly inappropriate topic to discuss in front of ladies and children, not to mention it being none of your business. I spent time with Blaise, we had a lovely chat about how things are going for him in Italy with his new affliction. I told him I would be seeing his brother today and he sends his regards. Whatever else may or may not have happened is not up for discussion."

Dion only laughed heartily and sipped from the whiskey he had somehow managed to procure despite the standing order to remove his wand upon arrival and that prohibited any house elf from serving him alcohol for any reason.

"Whatever it was, it better not have been unseemly. I would hate to have our name brought down by unseemly dalliances."

"But of course, Aunt Antigone. The Murray family name will in no way be affected." His aunt looked cross; even his mother put a cautioning hand on his arm. Perhaps he had gone a bit far. "I apologise, Aunt Antigone, but I am doing everything in my power to raise the Malfoy name to its former prominence. I would do nothing to jeopardize it. Anything that occurs in my private life is merely my search for my mate."

She seemed mollified by his apology. "And how is the search going? This is an unusually long time to take for searching, is it not?"

"Yes, it is, but there is nothing more I can do to help the situation along."

"Perhaps she is not English?" She was determined to continue urging him towards a woman, somehow thinking it would be a more respectable match.

"I have gone to America and Spain already looking for _him_; I have plans to look in Italy after the Yule season is over."

"Isn't that where…" Dion began grinning.

"Yes, I will be staying with Blaise," Draco continued impatiently.

"I'm sure you will have a wonderful time. We visited Blaise's villa just after we returned from our honeymoon and the view was breathtaking there, wasn't it Imogene?"

"Oh, it was spectacular. We've been talking about finding a neighbouring villa for a summer home." Imogene was a glow with pleasure at the idea, still slightly doe-eyed from her recent marriage, not that the girl had ever possessed much sense in the first place. Her mother's shrewdness had definitely not been passed on.

"You've never mentioned such an idea to me," came Aunt Antigone, always impatient to head the conversation.

"We had only been talking of it, there are no definite plans as of yet," Philario hastily explained.

"I still would like to have been informed."

"Yes, Mother Antigone. We will consult you before a decision is made."

Draco looked away in disgust at the scene of flagrant tyranny. His mother looked up at him with glassy eyes and whispered, "You are leaving me again?"

"There is no need for worry, our Sunday teas will not be abandoned; I will only be an international floo away." He kissed her cheek, but she remained sceptical. As the afternoon progressed, Aunt Anitgone only became more doggingly obnoxious, DeVerill became increasingly intoxicated (though Draco had yet to ferret out where he was getting his constant supply of alcohol), and to make matters worse, as he became further intoxicated, he became more perceptive to all Draco's exploits. Draco, who would rather die than admit to any of it, was beginning to wonder if the ghastly, old codger had spies on him.

As dinner approached, Draco began to count the minutes until it was over. He found reasons to excuse himself and his mother from the room in order to 'discuss' preparations, never mind that the house elves had been preparing one of a rotating list of ten meals for the past three hundred years, and variations on them for the last thousand. Instead, Draco and Narcissa went to Lucius' former study, now used by Draco only sparingly when conducting the family business transactions, and had a small aperitif, sherry for Narcissa, whiskey for Draco, while Draco made a running commentary of the painful behaviour of their relatives. Narcissa, quietly just as perturbed, listened intently to his diatribes.

After a particularly nasty accusation by DeVerill, Draco had had enough and summoned a house elf to the study. "I do not want to know where DeVerill is getting his drinks, but I want the next one to contain a heavy sleeping potion. I want him tucked away in a guest bed before dinner is served, understand?" The tiny elf bowed to the floor before popping out of sight.

"Is that entirely wise, dear?"

"He will disrupt dinner more than he has already disrupted this awful afternoon. He is already drunk enough to make a sleeping aid unsuspicious. There is no harm in it and it will make this evening more bearable, don't you think?"

"Yes, I suppose." Satisfied with her answer, they spoke no more about it. Just as he had requested, DeVerill was in an 'intoxicated stupor' twenty minutes before dinner was announced, and his absence made the meal and the coffee afterwards at least bearable. Everyone was tucked into bed by eleven thanks to Aunt Antigone's insistence that "staying up late was detrimental to one's health". Draco lay awake in his old bed, staring up at the magicked night sky, pondering the issue of his mate and his upcoming visit to Italy. He fell asleep still irresolute.

* * *

**Date: **27/12/01

**Age: **22

**Mate: **N/A

**Current Location: **, England

**Number of Sexual Encounter(s): **6

**Name(s) of Partner(s): **Martin Cowper 2(M), Blaise Zabini 3(M), Terence Higgs 1(M)

**Age(s) of Partner(s): **26, 23, 29

**Species of Partner(s): **wizard, vampire (You never said anything about sleeping with vampires, and I think I know why now), wizard

**Description of Sexual Encounter(s): **Martin and I had an interesting night involving vodka and strawberries after an evening at a club; I enjoyed it immensely. Blaise, yes he's a vampire and can't drink my blood, but we got around the little difficulty by bringing along Higgs, who very kindly donated his blood in exchange for a blowjob. Once Blaise left, I tried another encounter with Higgs with disastrous results. The sex was fine, rather good actually, but my instincts revolted once it was over worse than they ever have before. I could not even stand for him to be within five feet of me, let alone touching me. I was taken aback, as was he, by the strength of my repulsion. We ended with a row and I hexed him rather badly for calling me a woman, which is completely unacceptable behaviour. He's lucky I only made him temporarily impotent, I was tempted to curse it off.

**Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s): **Yes

**If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects: **Nothing that has not been used before.

**Did any encounter result in pregnancy: **

**Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate: **Yes, for the usual means.

**Comments: **I will be spending the next several months with Blaise Zabini in Italy. If you have need of me, I suggest you send a note far in advance.

* * *

He had timed his arrival at the portkey centre to be after nightfall so that Blaise would be able to meet him, and they met in a passionate embrace as soon as they came into sight of each other. "My bed has been cold without you. I am glad that you have finally come."

"I'm relieved to be here, as well. My holidays were atrocious. Being with you will be lovely." They kissed again, taking no notice of the people around them, the English tourists all staring in abject horror while the Italians murmured to each other about love.

"Do you have your things?"

"My elf has probably already deposited them at your home, if that is all right."

"Perfect. Hold on to me and I will take you there." Draco's arms tightened around his neck and the next second they were gone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title:** Department of Magical Creatures Case #645369

**Author:** ronspigwidgeon (AKA: feltonxmalfoy)

**Beta:** domtheknight

**Pairing:** DM/RW (eventually), DM/EM, DM/SF, DM/BZ, DM/TH, DM/JFF, DM/CW, DM/multipleOMC's, RW/3OMC's, HG/OMC, BW/FD

**Chapter:** Eight

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** slash, swearing, sexual acts

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary: **At 21, Draco Malfoy is on a journey to find his life mate, but is delayed by pesky Hufflepuffs screaming 'regulations' and 'laws'. Please, Malfoys play by their own rules.

**A/N: **Re-edited and re-uploaded 31/03/2008

* * *

Three months of petitioning found them no closer to gaining access to the Nefertari tomb than they had been at the start. In the meantime they had examined and re-examined the chamber that held the important pictograph countless times with only small results. They had identified the other worshipping pharaohs to be Djoser, Unas, Khufu, and Nefertari's husband, Ramses II. The dagger used to kill Re had some sort of magical glow about it and there were indications that there was some sort of ritual involved in the slaughter, though there were no specifics as to what the ritual may have entailed. They were beginning to run out of ideas.

Ron was looking over the surrounding walls for the trillionth time while Bill and Raleigh conversed in tense voices across the room, as they had been doing for the last week. Ron wasn't sure he wanted to know what they were conspiring about; his brother could be scary sometimes when it came to getting what he wanted from the Egyptians. Running his fingers along the crease where the ceiling met the wall, thinking he was probably being ridiculous and inexperienced, he paused at an indentation that felt somewhat like the picture books his blind cousin, Elizabeth, brought with her to the family reunion two years before. He remembered because Hermione had been so transfixed by them. Brows furrowed, he peered at the surface under his fingers and was shocked to see colour there that had never been before, maybe writing. He quickly called Bill and Raleigh over and showed them what he had found. They excitedly shoved him aside and poked the crease with their glowing wands.

"Where did this come from? It was never here before!" exclaimed Raleigh.

"I don't know, I just ran my fingers over the crease and there it was. Do you know what it says?"

"I think it's a name," Bill murmured, peering hard at the inscription.

"Khaemwaset! It's the sign of Khaemwaset!"

"Who?" asked Ron, thoroughly confused, as usual.

"He's the world's first archeologist. He restored dozens of tombs from the Old Kingdom," explained Raleigh, still nearly bouncing in excitement, quite a feat for a man nearing eighty, wizard or no wizard.

"He was also the second son of Ramses II and Nefertari, which confirms that we need to get into Nefertari's tomb," Bill added.

"But Gringotts doesn't have access."

"Yes, that's our problem, isn't it?" Bill continued to examine the inscription as Raleigh prepared the camera with Ron's help.

"What are we going to do about it?"

"We don't know yet," Raleigh answered with a mysterious look, as though they had an idea, but were not yet ready to reveal it to Ron. That was fine with Ron, though; after Harry's mysterious moods concerning their life or death, he was fairly used to being kept from the plans. They spent the rest of the afternoon and evening meticulously photographing and documenting the find, and did not realize that it was passed dinner time until well into the early hours of the morning. Forten was already asleep when Ron finally returned home and he guiltily slid into bed without rousing him.

* * *

Date: Saturday, 23 February 2002

To: Turtingtoll Mordonfus Kellgorotk

Head of Egyptian Excavation Committee

Gringotts Bank

From: Raleigh Rutherford Rookwood

Assistant Curse Breaker

Gringotts Bank

New evidence concerning Djedefre/Re case has been discovered by a member of the team. This new evidence positively links Nefertari to the tomb site and with the collection of pictograph we have been studying. The creator of the pictograph, Khaemwaset, was the son of Nefertari and Ramses II. In light of this new information, the team formally requests that any and all measures be taken to gain access to the Nefertari site. We understand the restrictions involved, but if there is any possible way to circumvent these restrictions, we request that such action be taken immediately.

* * *

"Fleur wants us to come for tea."

Forten squirmed next to him on the sofa. "Today? We've barely had any time together."

"We'll be together at Bill and Fleur's. It's just tea. We haven't been together in a social way in a while."

Forten looked as though he wanted to further argue, but was unsure precisely how to go about it. Eventually he conceded. "What time?"

"Three."

Two hours later they were sitting on Bill and Fleur's sofa, Forten nestled into Ron's side, both with cups of tea. Fleur was buzzing with conversation, so pleased was she to have visitors. "And you know that they 'ave 'ired Kingsley as ze new charms professor, at least zat is what I 'ear from Remus. But of course, 'e 'as never been quite ze same since zat awful curse from that 'orrible man, 'as 'e? It is good that 'e is getting back into working, I think."

"It is. I'm glad to hear he's out of rehabilitation." Ron answered, taking a sip of tea.

Fleur waved the comment off as though it were silly of him. "'ow out of touch you men get, crawling around in those tombs. 'e 'has been out of ze re'abilitation for several months now. Do you not speak to Remus?"

"I barely remember to send Harry and Hermione a note every once in a while anymore. I've been trying to study up just to know what Bill and Raleigh are talking about half the time." He grinned at her and she giggled.

"They do know too much, no? I 'ave no idea what Bill talks about when 'e comes 'ome. I do not worry, though. I just think 'if it is important, 'e will explain', and let 'im talk. But you, you must know. I thought you 'ated to study."

"Mum used to send letters about how she couldn't understand how she managed to have three younger boys who just messed about, when Charlie, Percy, and I were all excellent students. She used to say she thanked God every day for Hermione Granger because otherwise, you never would have passed," Bill joked as he entered with a fresh pot of tea.

"Yeah, but that was boring school stuff. This is my job, it's exciting and interesting. I want to know as much as possible."

"At least Mum will be pleased you've finally taken an interest in books." Ron glared at him.

"So, how is Remus, since you speak to him?"

"Remus is well. They 'ave improved ze Wolfsbane and 'ave made it much more affordable since ze increase in wolf bites." Her eyes dimmed a little when she looked at Bill, and she smoothed his hair back from his brow lovingly. Bill had not been changed as a result of the attack he had received, but the medi-wizard cautioned them that there was still a possibility that he could in the future, and he was required to have a physical every full moon as a precaution. "'e even says zat zey are working on a potion to make it possible for ze werewolves not to pass zeir problem to ozers. Zat would mean zat Remus and Nymphadora may 'ave children! C'est magnifique, no? Remus would make a wonderful father, I think."

"Mmm, he would. I think Tonks is the one to look out for."

Bill rolled his eyes Heaven-ward. "Can you imagine Tonks pregnant? That would be a disaster."

"She already has horrible balance."

"Maybe the healer would put her on bed rest once she got too big."

"I do not zink zat would do any good."

"It is a long way away, though. I mean, you two will probably have one before they even finish developing the potion. Maybe she'll level out by then."

Bill and Fleur exchanged a glance and moved closer together as if to prepare for something. "That's actually the reason we invited you to tea. We've been talking it over and we think we're ready to start a family."

Forten sat up, ready to join in the conversation for the first time. Both he and Ron were grinning. "That's wonderful. How far along are you?"

"Oh, I am not pregnant yet, but we 'ave decided to forgo the contre... ze contra... ze zing zat prevents making pregnant." Ron held back a laugh, Fleur's accent always got thicker when she couldn't remember a word.

"Well, that's still great that you're getting ready for it!"

"We just wanted to tell you so that it wasn't a huge surprise when we are pregnant."

"Are you telling Mum and Dad?"

"Absolutely not and neither are you. Mum'll be sending daily owls wanting to know if she has a grandchild yet or not."

"But won't she be upset when you--"

"No, she will not. No telling Mum, not a word. If I hear you blabbed, I'll make the teddy bear incident look like a birthday party, understood?" Ron looked down, flashes of spiders dancing in his head.

"No telling Mum, then."

* * *

Date: Tuesday, 26 February 2002

To: Raleigh Rutherford Rookwood

Assistant Curse Breaker

Gringotts Bank

From: Turtingtoll Mordonfus Kellgorotk

Head of Egyptian Excavation Committee

Gringotts Bank

As we have already stated several times, the British and Cairo Wizarding Museums have exclusive access to the Nefertari site. The situation is out of our hands. Please find another course of action or we will be forced to re-assign you.

* * *

Bill, Raleigh, and Ron were sitting in Ron's living room, three beer bottles on the table and notes scattered all around them. They had been stationed there for nearly the entire afternoon, making plans. They knew that with the Nefertari tomb unavailable for the foreseeable future, they would have to look elsewhere, and thus far had narrowed their next sight to the burial city of Saqqara, but were undecided between the small tomb of Unas, the large Step Pyramid of Djoser, or Serapaeum. Each held its own reasons for being chosen, and each reason was equally as recommending as the other. Serapaeum was the supposed burial place of Khaemwaset, though the muggles had never proven that the body they found buried there was his and not that of a cow and the wizards had never shown enough interest to perform their own tests, and as he was apparently the one to orchestrate the burial of Re, his tomb seemed like as safe a bet as any for information gathering. Unas and Djoser were both among the pharaohs offering tribute to Re in the pictograph, but Unas had a closer tie to Re in that his tomb was accompanied by two funerary boat pits that would have held boats symbolically used by Re on his journey through the Underworld.

"I honestly don't think we're going to find anything at Serapaeum. We aren't even sure Khaemwaset's buried there." Bill repeated for the third time to a shake of Raleigh's head.

"But he was the head of the temple for years, wouldn't that be the logical place for him to leave clues?"

"But it's a temple for another god, isn't it? Wouldn't it be improper to talk about a different god in his temple?" Ron asked, still unsure about the etiquette of Egyptian worship.

"Yes, it would have been, which is why I think we should skip it for now. If Unas turns nothing up, we can always go back to it."

Raleigh sighed, finally resigned to letting Serapeum go, but that did not mean he was ready to finalize plans. "Unas? What about Djoser?"

"What about him? He has no connection with either Re or Khaemwaset that we know of. Unas has connections with both. Khaemwaset restored his tomb, just as he did Djedfre. And there's the boat pits, they could easily hold Re's boat without the muggles finding it."

"I may not know as much as either of you, but Bill's argument makes sense. Why are we looking at this Djoser anyway?"

Raleigh rolled his eyes and pointed to a picture of the Djedfre pictograph. "He's on the list, there has to be a reason for that."

"Well, we won't rule him out, just as we won't rule out Serapeum, but I think we should focus on the site we have the best bet of finding something in, don't you?"

Obviously frustrated, but unable to think up a good enough argument, Raleigh took a pull off his beer and nodded. "Fine, we'll do the Unas tomb first. But we aren't ignoring the other two, they still have potential."

"Of course not." But Bill was grinning, pleased to have got his way.

Ron got up to grab more beer, not liking the quiet tension between the two. Forten was standing in front of the refrigerator, staring blankly at the contents. With all their concentration focused on the plans they were working on, Ron had almost forgotten his lover was still home. Smiling, he walked over and wrapped his arms around his waist, blocking the blond's view of their refrigerator. "See anything interesting?"

"Not really," Forten spoke quietly, slipping his arms around Ron's neck. "Have you decided yet?"

"Mmhmm, we're going to Unas, as long as the goblins will let us." He leaned down to begin trailing kisses up his lover's neck, delighting in the tiny moan he caused as Forten closed his eyes. Their lips met and melded for a few moments before each pulled away with another light peck. "Why don't you come, sit with us? You don't have to hide in the kitchen all afternoon, you know."

"You're busy, I don't want to be a distraction."

"You won't be, there's not much left for you to distract me from. We should be about finished."

"I don't know…"

"Please? I don't like you all alone in here." Forten nodded, attention more focused on Ron's t-shirt than what he was saying. Ron swept in for another kiss, and then turned to grab the beers. "Come on." He led the way back into the living room, handed over the bottles, and took his place on the sofa with Forten sitting next to him. Bill and Raleigh smiled at him in greeting from the two arm chairs they'd pulled close to the table. "So, is there anything else we need to talk about?"

"Yes, actually, our plan for Nefertari."

"I thought we didn't have a plan yet."

Bill exchanged a look with Raleigh. "We've worked it out."

Brightened, Ron grinned eagerly at them. "Great, what's the plan?"

His grin faded at the guilty look on his brother's face. "Well, there's an opening for an assistant's position on the British Wizarding Museum's team in Cairo."

"And we were thinking you could apply for it and we could gain access that way."

Ron sat up, instantly alarmed. "My contract with Gringott's says I can't work for anyone else while I work for them."

"They wouldn't have to know. We're your supervisors; we'll tell them you're doing your job as usual. They never come to check, they'll never know."

"I don't want to piss off goblins, Bill."

"Of course not, you won't."

"Cairo isn't safe though, is it?" Forten asked uncertainly.

"The muggle part isn't, but Ron shouldn't ever have to step foot outside the wizarding district. He'll be completely safe."

"Of course, I would never let my littlest brother go somewhere where he might get hurt." Bill's canines, sharper now as a side-affect of Greyback's attack, flashed and a soft growl escaped his lips. Forten inched closer to Ron, still not used to the more animalistic of Bill's mannerisms.

"Is this our only option? Because you know the likelihood of my getting this job is slim, if not non-existent. I've only been working with you guys for two years. I doubt they'd see me as qualified enough. I don't even have a degree in this and two years isn't enough training."

"You haven't been training for two years; you've been training every summer since I left Hogwarts."

Ron didn't notice the gleam in his brother's eyes in his confusion. "I have?"

Bill and Raleigh rolled their eyes. "Of course not, but they don't know that."

"But what if they find out you're lying? I'll get fired and it will look horrible on my resume. And then Gringotts will find out."

"They won't find out. You'll be working for the museum and for us; Gringotts won't even notice that you've got a second job."

"But won't that mean more time away from home? A lot more time? Monday through Friday from sun up to sun down, I don't want to spend any more time away from Forten." Forten's hand slid onto his knee at the mention of him and Ron turned to place a kiss on his temple.

"I'm not sure what the museum hours would be, but we would certainly work something out. We don't want to turn this into some kind of punishment for either of you," Raleigh assured, taking a sip of his beer.

Ron was silent for a long moment, looking at Forten staring into the cooling flames with a blank expression. It was obvious that he didn't want Ron to do this, and Ron wasn't sure he wanted to himself. It was important to get into the tombs, but he was unsure as to whether it was important enough to forsake his relationship or not. "Can I think about it?"

"Of course, we wouldn't want you to rush into anything. Besides, we've already got a plan to got to Saqqara, the others can wait."

Ron nodded and there was another silence before the subject was changed to something unimportant, more as a distraction than anything else.

* * *

Date: Thursday, 4 April 2002

To: Turtingtoll Mordonfus Kellgorotk

Head of Egyptian Excavation Committee

Gringotts Bank

From: Raleigh Rutherford Rookwood

Assistant Curse Breaker

Gringotts Bank

As you have asked of us, the Weasley team formally requests to move our excavations to the city of Saqqara, and specifically to the pyramid of Unas. We have decided to go there because there is a strong connection between this tomb and the Djedefre pyramid we have been excavating for the last year. Both have connections to the sun god Re, and both were restored at one point by Ramses II's son, Khaemwaset. If this is an insufficient explanation, please owl quickly, and a more thorough explanation will be sent. Thank you.

* * *

Date: Monday, 8 April 2002

To: Raleigh Rutherford Rookwood

Assistant Curse Breaker

Gringotts Bank

From: Turtingtoll Mordonfus Kellgorotk

Head of Egyptian Excavation Committee

Gringotts Bank

Two connection points are enough of an explanation, Rookwood. It would not have taken any explanation at all to warrant moving you to another site we have access to, as long as you are no longer requesting to go to Nefertari. Clearance for the Unas pyramid is being processed right now, and you should be able to enter the site within the next two weeks. If there are any difficulties, though I do not expect there will be, please let me know immediately.

* * *

Entering the front door was such a relief that Ron almost dropped to his knees. Instead, he slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower to remove the sand that felt like it had permeated every inch of his clothing and had been extremely close to pushing through his pores. Once finished, he slipped into bed and nestled in behind Forten with a pleased sigh. After seventy-two hours of wandering around underground chambers with his brother and Raleigh, being able to hold his lover felt wonderful. He nuzzled his nose into the nape of Forten's neck and felt him stir a bit in his sleep.

"You're home," croaked a sleep-roughened voice.

"Yeah, finally. Once the hieroglyphics started to all look the same, Bill decided it was time to take a break, and so here I am." He pulled Forten closer and buried his nose in his shoulder. "I missed you. You smell wonderful. What have you been doing?"

"Wandering around the markets and lazing about. There's nothing to do without you around."

"Well, I'm here now and I've got tomorrow off. We can spend all day together."

"Mmm…" The mumbled reply was the last thing spoken for a while, but the uneven breathing signalled that neither had fallen asleep. Ron stroked his hip and laid gentle kisses on his neck and shoulder, his hips subtly pushing into Forten's behind. Forten pushed back. Soon Forten had twisted around to kiss him, and then Ron was crawling over him to settle between his legs and they were fumbling for pillows between kisses to prop his hips up and a lubrication spell had been whispered. What Ron loved about not having sex for a few days was that in their desperation, they became fumbling first-timers again, relearning each others' bodies, and, due to some phenomenon Ron had yet to ascribe to nature or Forten's magic, Forten's body tightened so that there was a significant difference between steady, daily sex, and sex after a few days of abstinence, so that it was as if they really were virgins again.

He closed his eyes in anticipation of that wonderful tight feeling as he entered, body tingling in anticipation of it, only it felt as though they had just had sex that morning and not nearly a week previously. Too far gone to pause for thought, he shrugged it off as Forten amusing himself in Ron's absence and got to it, leaning down for a kiss as he did.

* * *

Ron was making lunch, something he normally wouldn't do because of his abysmal cooking skills, but he was feeling guilty for having only been home a total of fifteen hours in the last week, and didn't want to bother his lover. Thankfully, sandwiches were easy to make, especially with the handy cooking spell book his mother had given him upon realizing that he would never have a woman around the house to 'take care of him'. The biggest problem he'd run across thus far was figuring out where Forten had hidden the tuna. He heard a pop and assumed that Forten was back from where he had disappeared to, that was until he heard a stranger's voice.

"Forten, love, where are you? I've got an extended lunch; I thought we might pop off to The Ivy."

Confused, he would have thought Forten would have mentioned a new friend even if Ron only rarely saw him these days, he stuck his head around the cabinet separating the kitchen and the living room. An older gentleman stood near the sofa, looking towards the bedroom door. He was dressed expensively and... was that a cane? A gold cane shaped like a legless giraffe? "Who are you?" he blurted out, uncomfortable with the apparent easy knowledge the man had of his flat.

The man turned at his voice, eyes growing wide and then narrowing with... contempt? "I'm a friend of Forten's. You wouldn't happen to be Ron, would you?"

"I am. And your name is?"

"Oh, that isn't important. Where is Forten?" He spoke with a dismissing, flippant air, as though he had every right to question Ron in his own home, which instantly pissed Ron right off.

"I think it is important. Friend of my partner's or not, I still don't feel comfortable with you apparating into my flat without prior warning. I don't even tolerate my mother doing that. Now who are you?"

He once more ignored the question. "Forten has given me permission to enter as I please. Given that I am here more often than you are, I do not think it unreasonable to be permitted free access."

Ron clenched his teeth at the haughty tone. "It is unreasonable. I don't want people entering my home without giving notice first. There are still a few Deatheaters wandering about and my best friend is their number one target; I have every right to be untrusting of strangers. And you are a stranger. Now what is your name?"

Before the git could answer there was another pop and Forten appeared in front of the fireplace, basket full of fruit under one arm. He froze upon seeing their intruder. "Richard, what are you doing here?"

"Not using the front door. Who is this git and why did you allow him to apparate in whenever he likes? You know how dangerous that is."

Forten instantly looked guilty, turning his eyes down and making Ron even more uneasy. "Richard is..."

"If you must know, I am his lover," the bastard answered haughtily.

Ron spluttered at him. "W-w-what?"

He looked pleased with himself for the statement. "I have been sleeping with him for six months while you ignored him and crawled around in caves."

Ron's heart fell to his feet as he turned to Forten, who looked just as guilty as he had during the incident with Harry. "Ron… I can explain." The confirmation just shattered his insides and made him feel nauseous.

"Is this another mistake? Like Harry?"

"No… I couldn't find the right time to tell you… I'm leaving. I'm moving in with Richard. You don't have any time for me anymore."

Ron's eyes widened in disbelief and he had to swallow before he could speak. "I've been busy working to support you."

Forten's guilty look turned angry. "You're never home! You've been working to find that stupid mummy that probably doesn't exist! You don't care about supporting me! If you were just working to keep food on the table, you wouldn't be gone for days at a time without even telling me you're not coming home! We did just fine when you were working eight hour days and had weekends off and you know it."

"This is an important find, you know that, but not as important as you. All you had to do was tell me you wanted me to stop and I would have, you didn't need to do…this." He sneered at the arrogant arse before turning back to Forten. "You said you loved me."

Forten turned his eyes away in guilt. "Situations change."

Ron suddenly felt himself go cold. Up until that point, he had been hanging on to the idea that perhaps this was just Forten being distracted, and that they would work things out because they loved one another, and if you love someone you can always work it out. But no, this was real, permanent. Not even aware of what he was doing, he crossed the room and punched the man who was taking away his lover, moving so fast that the bastard did not have time enough to pull his wand before he was sprawled out on the carpet, blood seeping out of his nose. "I hope he does the exact same thing to you," he growled before turning back to his former lover. "I want you completely gone before I come back. Anything left gets burned." He pulled his wand out of his pocket and apparated without another word.

Shaky and distracted, Ron made it to his brother's without spliching himself, though it was probably a near thing. Fleur opened the door, noted his watery eyes, and instantly let him in. "What is wrong? You do not look well."

"I'm an idiot, that's what's wrong. I should have listened to Harry. Hell, I should have listened to you. He's a little, cheating bastard." Fleur looked alarmed as she led him to the sofa.

"'arry? Zere is nozing wrong with 'arry. Why would I tell your zere was somesing wrong with 'arry?"

"Not Harry, Forten. He's leaving me for some rich fuck he's been buggering for six months." He flopped down on the sofa with a dejected look. "Why didn't I listen to you?"

Fleur sat next to him with eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Forten 'as left you? But 'e loves you. Why would 'e do this?"

"He said I'm not around enough and I don't take care of him, which is rubbish. I work bloody hard to make sure he has everything he needs, without even a thank you. And God forbid he'd work himself." He rubbed his hands over his face and forced himself not to cry as he went on. "He's moving in with some posh arse who showed up in our living room this afternoon. He said he doesn't love me anymore."

"No! Ce n'est pas possible! 'ow could 'e?"

At that moment Bill poked his head in from their bedroom. "All right there, Ron?"

Fleur shot him a look and wrapped an arm around Ron. "'e is in pain. Son amant est roulure."

Bill looked confused momentarily, and then stern. "I thought we discussed not making Ron feel bad by insulting Forten." Fleur looked affronted and went off into a muttered rant in French that even Bill, who had become quite proficient in the French language, had little hope of deciphering.

"Forten left me for some rich git. He says I don't pay enough attention to him, that I work too much. He thinks I care more about the dig than him."

"No, he probably just wants more money than you have to give him."

"Zat is right. 'e is a money-wanter and a scoundrel and you are better rid of him, I think."

Ron nodded unconciously, no longer able to keep the tears at bay as he allowed Fleur to pull his head to her bussom and stroke his hair. Bill leaned against the door jam and looked deep in thought.

"I think I can get that job at the museum now."

Bill looked startled for a moment before shaking his head. "I think it'll be best for you to take a bit of time off before we think about that, hmm? You've been working hard, you're mentally exhausted, and this is a lot to take in. We'll talk about it in a few weeks, all right?"

"Fine." He was quiet after that, lulled by the stroke of Fleur's fingers through his hair. That night he slept in the guest room—soon to be nursery—while Bill made sure Forten was gone.

* * *

Hermione's first glance into the flat was Ron sprawled out on the sofa, dishevelled, nearly off his seat, and presumably staring into the flames her head currently occupied. She had to call his name three times to get his attention and he nearly toppled off the sofa when she did. She stared at him in shock.

"Are you drunk?"

"Maybe," he spat petulantly.

She furrowed her brows. Ron wasn't particularly inclined to drink unless in a social setting, which it was obvious to her he was not in, and was not inclined to become anywhere near as intoxicated as he appeared to currently be even when he was in a social setting. "Where's Forten?"

He growled and slumped further on the sofa. "Fuckin' bassard lef' fer some rich fuckin' git. Said I wasn' takin' care o' him. And tha's rubbish 'cause I gave him ever'thin' I had!"

As horrible as she felt for Ron, she could not help but be pleased deep inside, and slightly amused as he tended to sound a bit like Hagrid when he was intoxicated. "He left you?"

"Yes." He took a swig of the Ogden's she hadn't noticed he had been holding—clutching rather. She tried to think. There was no holding a conversation with Ron when he was drunk, so she would have to get him sober before she would be able to get any comprehensible idea of what happened, which would mean that she would need to floo there and not just firecall. "I'm coming over; put the alcohol away." She left him to protests that 'she was just going to make him stop drinking' and flooed back to him muttering to himself. She ignored him and immediately summoned a sobriety potion, quietly amazed that he even had one, and went about making him take it. After ten minutes struggle, he was finally sober enough for a decent discussion, though he was still a bit glassy-eyed. "All right, now that I've got you sober, explain this in language I can understand. Forten left you for a rich man—when? Does Harry know?"

"No, Bill and Fleur do. I went to them after I figured it out."

"And when was that?"

"A week ago? I think." He seemed disoriented for a moment.

"You think?"

"I'm not… Bill let me off work, you know, to have a rest and get over it. I haven't really been keeping tabs on the days since then…" A wave of sympathy swept over her even though she knew the reason he'd lost track of the days was because he had been drunk the whole time, and she pulled him into a hug.

"I know you're hurting, but drinking is not going to solve your problem. The best thing to do is talk. Why haven't you told Harry or me? We love you, we would have come to help you."

Ron had succumed to the hug and spoke from the muffled position of having his nose buried in her jumper. "You both hate him. I thought you might say 'I told you so' and Harry would have arrested him. I just wanted to be alone."

"You do know that it is not illegal to leave your lover for another man, don't you? At least not in Britain. Harry can't arrest him, even if he is angry."

"Not for that, no, but he can for being assaulted in the shower."

She sat straight up at that, leaving him with no choice but to do the same. "Come again?"

"Forten tried to suck Harry off in the shower and Harry only didn't press charges because of me."

"What! Why did no one tell me of this? When did this happen?"

Ron did his best to look truly guilty. "A few months ago."

"How many months ago?"

"Ten… maybe eleven… I don't remember exactly, but it was the weekend he came to stay here, right before he went on the mission to New Zealand and didn't come back until Christmas."

"Ron! That was a year ago! How could you have kept something like this from me for a year? We used to be close." She looked hurt by it, but Ron was too emotionally drained to care.

"You hated Forten; I knew you would say something about it. Our relationship was already hanging by a string, I didn't think having you try to sabotage it would help the situation any."

"So instead you got your heart broken twice instead of once. Why did you take him back? He cheated on you with your best friend."

"No, he assaulted my best friend; Harry played no willing part in the situation."

"Which should have given you all the more reason to throw him out."

Not in the mood to argue, Ron rubbed his face with the heels of his hands and sighed. "Whatever you say, Hermione; I'm tired. Let's not fight about it."

She bit her lip and studied him, forehead wrinkled in thought. "When was the last time you ate?"

"I don't remember."

"How about I make you some dinner? We can sit down and have a nice talk and I won't mention anything about the cretin, I promise."

He eyed her suspiciously as though not believing that was possible before nodding. She smoothed out the back of his hair and kissed his cheek before getting up. "Why don't you get in the shower while I start dinner? You smell as though you haven't touched soap in a week."

* * *

**Date:** 12/08/02

**Age:** 23

**Mate:** N/A

**Current Location:** Florence, Italy

**Number of Sexual Encounter(s):** 28

**Name(s) of Partner(s):** Giaglio 22(M), Blaise Zabini 28(M), Luigi Borgellio 6(M)

**Age(s) of Partner(s):** 19, 23, 56?

**Species of Partner(s):** wizard, vampire, wizard

**Description of Sexual Encounter(s):** I couldn't particularly understand anything Giaglio said because his Italian is so accented that Blaise even had a difficult time of it, but he was marvellous in bed (as I am coming to find out, all Italian men are), Blaise is as wonderful as always and manages to keep every one of our encounters new and interesting, and Luigi was a kind, careful lover who delighted in Blaise and I and managed to keep us both entertained enough so that we actually paid more attention to him than to each other (a very rare gift, indeed).

**Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s):** Yes

**If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects:** The Italian equivelants of all the usual spells I use. I must say they are more potent in Italian, though.

**Did any encounter result in pregnancy:**

**Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate:** Yes.

**Comments:** Italy is as beautiful as usual and I have yet to make plans to return to England. I will inform you if I do.


	9. Chapter 9

**Title:** Department of Magical Creatures Case #645369

**Author:** feltonxmalfoy

**Beta:** domtheknight

**Pairing:** DM/RW (eventually), DM/EM, DM/SF, DM/TH, DM/JFF, DM/CW, DM/multipleOMC's, RW/3OMC's, HG/OMC, BW/FD

**Chapter:** Nine

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** slash, swearing, sexual acts (but no details for now)

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** At 21, Draco Malfoy is on a journey to find his life mate, but is delayed by pesky Hufflepuffs screaming 'regulations' and 'laws'. Please, Malfoys play by their own rules.

**A/N:** Re-edited and re-uploaded 31/03/2008

* * *

Draco was sipping a latte at a café between Ponte Vecchio and Ponte Saint Trinita, far enough away to enjoy the view of the market bridge as well as the view of the Tuscan hills, while managing to avoid the high traffic tourism a mere block away. He had spent the afternoon playing tourist himself, wandering the wizarding section of the Galleria degli Uffizi, and was relaxing until sundown, when he would go in search of Blaise.

For the moment, though, he was sitting back and enjoying the lovely afternoon. He took another sip of his drink and watched the two gentlemen at the table next to his attempt to chat up passing females. He watched with only mild interest; the various reactions from the women they chose to call out to were losing their humor, and he had little other interest in blatantly straight muggle men. His eyes moved to the hills in front of him, but his view was obstructed by an unexpected wizard standing nearly on top of his table.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?"

"I might ask you the same. I don't suppose the Ministry has finally decided to reprimand me for sleeping with a vampire? You know, I was beginning to think it wasn't illegal, what with the fatal allergy and all."

Harry frowned at him. "Why are you involved with vampires? Not enough excitement in your teen years, you need to risk your life as an adult, as well?"

"I am perfectly safe. Blaise has never laid a hand on me in any manner that I did not thoroughly enjoy."

"Zabini? You're still with him? But you were with him at the Greengrass wedding…" He sat in the chair opposite absently, much to Draco's dismay.

Draco raised an eyebrow at him. "How do you know about the Greengrass wedding?"

"I was there undercover. In fact, I owe you some thanks, you introduced me to Regina."

"Regina Greengrass?"

"Yes, we're together…well, sort of… at least, we've been sleeping together for eight months now…" He looked uncertain and Draco rolled his eyes at him.

"Sleeping together is as far as Regina will allow any relationship to go. She's a terrible flirt, you know, not to mention a whore."

Harry immediately looked about to start a duel over her honour, but Draco distracted him before one could take place. "How exactly did I introduce you? I do not remember seeing you at the party."

"I was polyjuiced as Roger Mortimer. You set me up as her dance partner in your place so you could go shag with Higgs and Zabini. Speaking of which, if anyone's a whore, it's you," he growled, glaring as though he wished lightening would strike the blond down.

"I am not a whore, I am a veela who does not have his mate. I can become ill if I am not intimately touched by another on a regular basis and my senses do not allow me to remain with the same person for extended periods of time. Regina has no such excuse."

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Why do you always have to be a bastard?"

"Because I'm hoping that you will one day stop speaking to me, though it doesn't appear to be working."

"Maybe one day I'll come to my senses."

"Indeed."

"How's that mate thing going, anyway? Found him yet?"

"Not as of yet, but I've been a bit too distracted by vampires lately to really look."

A smirk crept onto Harry's face that looked distinctly as though he was hiding a very delicious secret and near bursting to tell it. "I'll bet ten galleons he's a muggle."

Draco let out a puff of frustrated air. "Don't be absurd, the universe would not choose a magically-inert being to be my life partner."

"Oh? Why do you say that?"

"Because the universe knows, I'm sure, that I would rather suffer the fate of a veela rejected than to be mated with a muggle." The blond was impatient to change the subject, displeased and uncomfortable with the fears Potter's suggestion brought up.

Harry, on the other hand, looked as though he was more than happy to continue along the same thread. "What if he's a muggleborn?"

Draco wrinkled his nose and shifted in his chair. "I would not be… averse to mating with a muggleborn, as long as he lived exclusively in the wizarding world. I could not abide living anywhere where I would have to restrict my magic. A lover of mine from America lived in a muggle neighbourhood and I hated not being able to apparate."

Harry looked mildly surprised, but not deterred in his quest to make Draco uncomfortable. "What about a Hufflepuff?"

The blond looked at him in horror. "Don't joke about things like that! You could subconsciously cast a spell that could make it happen."

Harry could no longer hold back his laughter. "You'd accept a muggleborn, but not a Hufflepuff? That's the oddest thing I've ever heard." He took note of the serious, tense expression on Draco's face and began to feel a little guilty. "Stop worrying, that would never happen. Magic doesn't work that way."

"It most certainly can! My grandfather told the Dark Lord that he was cautious enough to not die doing his bidding, and he died of dragon pox a week later. My mother always said he willed it so that he could leave the Dark Lord's service."

Harry rolled his eyes and gathered his baggage to him in preparation of leaving. "You're being superstitious, don't worry about it. I ought to go, though. I'm due back in London this evening."

Draco still looked worried, but nodded and brushed him away with a flippant hand gesture, brows contracted in thought.

As Potter passed his chair, he caught a whiff of that familiar spicy scent that had previously caused him to kiss the other man. Momentarily caught, he seized Potter's wrist and looked up at him. "Have you been to Egypt lately?"

"Yeah, Ron had a falling out with his boyfriend. Why?"

"You have that smell, again. I'd almost forgotten it."

Harry looked warily at him. "You're not going to kiss me, again, are you?"

"No, no, of course not. Once was traumatic enough."

"I agree. I have to go, though. My port key's in half an hour and the station's about that far away on foot."

"Go, then. We wouldn't want you to miss it." Harry nodded, waved, and was gone, leaving Draco to sit, pondering what he was going to do. He was stalling, pushing off the inevitable; he could not stay there much longer. Blaise was not his mate and there would come a time when his body became impatient and would reject the vampire. He didn't want that, didn't want to hurt or be hurt that way. And so he would have to leave, but where? He didn't think his mate resided in England. Potter had come back from Egypt twice now smelling irresistible; perhaps his mate was Egyptian. Yes, perhaps that was the answer. He would go back to England for a month to assure himself of his mother's health and the health of the estate, and then he would go to Egypt. His heart began fluttering; he had the distinct feeling that he was at last on the correct path.

* * *

Blaise had already risen and was speaking in quiet voices with his sire, both huddled on a settee in the sitting room. Blaise's eyes went to him immediately and a soft smile crept onto his face. Adriano looked up warily and whispered fervently for a moment more before rising and leaving the room. His relationship with Draco was one of cautions tension. The nature of Draco's blood put the vampire ill at ease and he was constantly trying to urge Blaise to leave him, though Blaise denied that he did so. Draco was unconcerned; he was not leaving at the behest of a two-hundred-year-old vampire, but that of his own heart. Blaise gestured him into the seat his sire had just left and wasted no time in kissing him. Draco was momentarily distracted by the intensity of the kiss, but only momentarily.

"I need to speak to you seriously for a moment." Blaise raised an eyebrow, but made no other motion to deter him. "I've begun to feel something… uncomfortable. Not for you particularly, but there's a general sense of stalling. I need to leave soon, to continue looking for my mate."

Blaise's face was a mask of indifference, but a slight tightening of his hand indicated his displeasure. "This is not the fault of Adriano I hope."

He denied the fear immediately, but did not deem it necessary to mention Potter's influence. "No, no, of course I have no interest in his discomfort with my species. My leaving is entirely my own decision. I will never be content without my mate and I know that he is not here. Staying here any longer only results in my not finding him sooner."

"When do you intend this departure?"

"Perhaps next week? I am not certain; I have only just decided as I was returning here."

Blaise nodded and his indifference turned to a smile. "And did you have a pleasant day out? Was the sun shining?"

"It was. I watched ridiculous muggles paddle around in boats poorly and took a tour of the Uffuzi."

"Did you finally reach the end of it?"

"Yes, it was lovely. I even wandered a little into the muggle sections out of curiosity."

"Was there anything of interest?"

"A few works were quite lovely, but it was distracting to have the paintings so still. I don't know how they stand it, really."

* * *

Narcissa was sitting in her usual seat, looking paler than usual, but otherwise reasonably well. He noticed she wore Lucius's scarf around her neck, covered in preservation charms to hold his scent, and thought perhaps appearances were not always to be trusted. She only wore the scarf when she was at her lowest. He would have to send Potter some sort of gift for jolting him enough to get him home just in time.

His mother glowed upon site of him and rose up to meet him and wrap her arms around him, though the embrace was a weak one. "I've missed you, Mother. How have you been?" he asked, looking into her face worriedly.

"I have been as well as I usually am. I've not seen you in too long, my love."

"Yes, I know. I was unduly distracted for the last month, I am sorry. I am home for a month, though," he apologized as they both sat on the settee.

"Indeed? Have you had a falling out with Mr. Zabini?"

"No, but I've had a new lead on my mate and I've come home to make plans to follow it. And there is, of course, the matter of my missing you terribly." They shared a warm smile and Narcissa took his hand. He could already see some of her colour returning and summoned an elf for tea in celebration.

"Has much happened in your absence? You say you have found news of your mate. What is it and where did you find it out?"

"Oddly, I received a hint from Potter, if you can believe it. We stumbled upon one another in Florence and I was struck by a certain scent he carried. It isn't his own, I know, because he only smells of it when returning from visits to his Weasley acquaintances in Egypt. As I have already ruled out Potter himself, I can only conclude that he is in some way connected to that country."

"Egypt? But it's so dirty there. The desert wind does not agree with our skin at all, dear, are you certain you must go there?" She looked beseechingly at him, as though she really were worried for the fate of his skin rather than his leaving the country once more.

"It shan't be for long, I promise. If he is there, I do not anticipate it taking long to find him. I can't imagine their wizarding society being very large." She still looked crest-fallen and seemed to be fading a bit at the edges. Worried, he sipped his tea in thought. It took him a moment to notice that his mother was not touching hers. Perhaps it would be best to change the subject and return to Egypt when he had had a longer time to think. "You aren't drinking your tea, Mother."

"You know why," she whispered frigidly, a hint of the cold, poised society woman she once was shining through.

"Mother…"

"I would rather not speak of it. The potion helps as much as anything else has and I am no longer going to live under the farce that I can be helped. Were Severus to make the potion, I doubt it would make a difference."

Draco's head snapped up at the name. They had not spoken of Severus since they had gone into hiding. He had not thought she even knew what his fate had been. "Severus, Mother? I do not think he is exactly in a state to make a proper cleaning potion, let alone your calming draught."

"I do not know about that. He was fairly coherent in the letters he has sent me, given the situation he has been placed in."

"The letters… Severus Snape sent you a letter?"

"Yes, several actually. He sent the first three weeks ago by this horrible, dirty owl. It quite scared me out of my wits at first, but Barneby retrieved the letter and cleaned it up enough to be read. For all that he is being put through, he has retained his mind quite well."

"May I see the letters?"

"If you so desire." Weena popped into existence before she could even be summoned and held out a short stack of very grimy-looking envelops. Draco quickly took them and opened the first. The hand writing was shaky, but still recognizable as his professor's, and the style was his same stoic, straight-forward voice, though it was a bit darker than usual and at times not entirely coherent.

"He sounds to be doing remarkably well. I was not aware that prisoners were allowed correspondence, though."

"Until recently they were not. According to a later letter, the Ministry has changed the prison restrictions. The letters are still heavily examined for any untoward material, though."

"What made him write to you?" She averted her eyes and took a sip of her tea, doubtless cold by then. Draco's suspicion went immediately up. "Mother, why would Severus Snape write to you?"

"Perhaps I am the only person he thought likely to answer."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps you've visited him and he knew you would answer." From the slight flinch of one hand, he knew he was right and concern and fear immediately sprang in him. "Mother, Azkaban is the last place you need be visiting! You are weak and, Aurors or not, the Dementers would no doubt delight in making a meal of you."

"I had protection; Harry Potter was with me, though he was most upset to be so near Severus."

"Potter escorted you to visit Severus? Why didn't you mention this?"

"I knew you would react this way. I was perfectly safe. He never left my side."

"Why was he even there? You've never been introduced."

"He insists on being present any time Severus is taken from his cell. I had to wait three weeks before going specifically so that he could be there. I can not understand why, though. He was so polite when greeting me, but he became very tense as soon as Severus was brought into the room. It is clear that he dislikes him."

"He was present at Dumbeldore's murder, if you will remember."

"As were you, and yet he does not hate you."

"We've slowly been resolving our differences. There was a very long time during which he did."

"Indeed?" Draco nodded and refilled his mother's tea, pleased that she had been distracted enough to finish it. The potion would do a great deal towards bringing some of her vibrancy back, maybe even combat the damage her visit to Azkaban had no doubt caused.

"He's sleeping with Regina Greengrass."

Narcissa looked almost shocked by the news. "Where on earth did you hear that?"

"From Potter, when I ran into him in Florence. He thanked me for introducing him to her, which I apparently did at Daphne's wedding."

"Indeed? Well, at least he has distracted her from her new son-in-law. I do hope he knows of her reputation, though. I would hate to see him become a victim of her coquettish behaviour."

Draco raised an eyebrow in surprise. How polite had Potter been to her that she would show any sort of concern for him, stranger that he was to her? He would have to remember to ask him what precisely went on at the prison the next time they met. "I was quick to inform him that she is a whore, though he was decidedly displeased with me for it."

Narcissa narrowed her eyes. "Language, dear, you may call her what she is without using vulgarity." Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes and kissed her cheek instead.

* * *

The sun was shining beautifully that afternoon on a table in a small café somewhere in the middle of Covet Garden. Justin sat at one of the outermost tables, a cup of tea sitting untouched in front of him and a very disgruntled look on his face as he tried his best to placate the very infuriating Mr. Pranskin of the Muggle Ministry.

"Yes, I understand that, sir. I'm really not sure why someone would charm all the photographs to move in lewd ways, sir. I will contact Arthur Weasley immediately and have him send an agent to the photo center. This will be fixed right away and no one will be the wiser, you have my word. Yes, of course, sir. No, sir, none of the muggles will remember the incident. Sir, that was not a derogatory remark, my parents are muggles. Please, sir, if you will just lower your voice. I promise, I will go to Arthur's office as soon as I am off the phone with you. Of course, sir. I am very sorry that this has happened, sir. Yes, yes, of course. I will contact you as soon as I have spoken to him. All right, good day, sir." Sighing, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and set the phone down on the table. This had been a long day and now he couldn't even finish his tea.

"Trouble in muggleland?" A smooth voice asked as its owner slid into the chair opposite him.

Justin registered a minor amount of shock. "Malfoy? Since when do you set foot in Muggle London, let alone this far in?" He stared at the sleek blond leaning over the small table and swivelling the stirring spoon in his tea lazily.

"My wanderings know no bounds. What brings you here? And please, do explain precisely what this contraption is. I've seen at least a hundred muggles talking into them and I can't figure out what they are." He had left the spoon to swivel idly as he picked up the mobile phone, looking it over curiously. He was still leaning a little close for Justin's comfort.

"It's called a mobile phone. You use it to talk to other people."

"Really? Like a two-way mirror?" He looked fascinated, his grey eyes large and glinting with wonder as he experimentally pushed buttons.

"Kind of, except it isn't connected to just one phone. Each phone has a specific number attached to it and you dial that number to contact the person holding it."

"Really? How inventive… I don't think I give muggles enough credit."

"Yes, well, they aren't stupid, you know."

"Of course not…" He smirked seductively and slid the phone back to Justin, turning his eyes to his face. "Why don't you tell me more about how that contraption works?"

"I'd love to, really, but I have to get back to the office. Trouble in muggleland, as you put it." He stood and pulled out his wallet to drop a few pounds onto the table.

Draco stood as well, shortening the distance between them rather easily. He trailed a finger teasingly down the buttons on Justin's dress shirt. "Perhaps over dinner then?"

Justin once more looked shocked. "I'm sorry, are you asking me out on a date?"

"Indeed, I am. Is there anything wrong with that?"

"Well, you hate muggle-borns, which would include me, so yes. There's something very wrong with that."

Draco's smirk turned predatory as he leaned in closer. "Let's just say my ideals have… changed."

"Really? Just like that? Twenty-two years of prejudice gone in an instant so you can get into my trousers? I don't think so. I may have been a Hufflepuff, but I am certainly not ignorant."

"Justin, Justin, Justin, honestly, don't be so hasty. I stopped caring about muggle-born prejudices long before now. A little after school ended, actually… A few things have… come to light, and all my prejudices just seemed to sort of melt away."

"Really? And what was this epiphany then?"

He shook his head, leaning a little closer. "I can't tell you that; that would be cheating. Now will you come to dinner with me tonight or not?"

Determined to stay firm in his refusal, he opened his mouth only to shut it again when his head became a bit foggy. Draco did look incredibly sexy, and agile, and sensuous, and did he mention sexy? Those lips were just begging to be ravished. What would one dinner hurt? He was being pleasant, if a bit touchy. "What time?"

"You can pick me up at 8. I'm sure you can find out where I live without a problem? If anything else, Ernie MacMillan could scrounge it up from his Magical Creatures file."

"Why would they have your address in the Magical Creatures department?"

Draco only smiled lasciviously and leaned up to place a tiny kiss behind Justin's ear. "You'll see." He turned to go, leaving Justin standing next to the table transfixed for several minutes before remembering what he had been meaning to do before Draco swaggered into his life. He quickly grabbed his things and apparated back to the Ministry. Once the situation was settled with Mr. Pranskin and the muggle photography shop, he made his way down to the Magical Creatures department to discuss Malfoy with Ernie. The man was sitting at his desk, shuffling through paperwork, and he looked as if he had yet to eat lunch. Justin knew he hadn't because Ernie was one of those workers that never knew when to stop and now that he was running the department, his ruthless work ethic was bound to have expounded. He figured now was as good a time as any to force his friend into a break.

"You'll never guess who I ran into today." Ernie, having not seen or heard Justin's entrance into the cushy office, jumped about a foot in shock and searched around until he caught sight of him.

"Merlin, Fletchly, trying to murder me? What's with the stealth?"

Justin only laughed and shook his head, plopping down in one of the leather chairs in front of Ernie's desk. "You were too engrossed in your work to notice me. Time for a break; I need some information."

"And what information would that be?"

"Well, it's the strangest thing. I ran into Malfoy today and you'll never guess what happened…"

"He tried to hit on you?" Ernie looked tired by the notion and rubbed at one of his eyes as he began shuffling again.

"Yeah, how'd you guess?"

"He's been pretty active since his instinct came in. He's searching for his mate. Apparently, you're the next target."

"Target? Mate? What?"

"As odd as this might seem, Malfoy is half veela. Both his parents were half, which explains a lot about how Lucius was able to persuade so many people to do his bidding. He hit 'puberty' about three years ago and, since veela mate for life and are never completely content without their mate, he's been on the look-out for his ever since. Been travelling around, luring innocent men into his bed. He hasn't fully grasped the concept that it isn't necessary for him to have sex with every wizard on the planet just to find out who his mate is yet, and since I pretty much despise the git, I haven't deemed it necessary to explain. Since we regulate the breeding of magical creatures and he's technically a magical creature, he has to check in every few weeks and let us know what he's doing, if he's found him, who he's gone through, that sort of thing. A male veela's never actually successfully been able to reproduce without another veela before, but we're still watching him just to make sure."

"So wait… he's a veela? Why's he looking at me?"

"You're potential in his book. Like I said, he doesn't grasp the concept of scent very well. He thinks you have to have sex in order to know. It's really a lot easier than that. All he has to do is be within the vicinity of his mate's scent and it'll hit him like a jelly-legs curse. He won't be able to function properly until he's made physical contact with him. But, like I said, I don't like him enough to let him know. And I think he likes all the mind-blowing sex anyway. He certainly raves about it in his reports." He rolled his eyes and opened a drawer to riffle through a few files.

"He thinks I might be his mate then?"

"Yes, but I doubt you are. Was he acting like he was a little bit drunk when you talked to him?"

"No, he was very smooth. Acted like his normal self, minus the hitting on a muggle-born."

Ernie nodded and finally found the file he needed, handing it to Justin. "Then you're safe. Although, if you want to go anyway, here's his address. Like I said, the sex is amazing."

"Do I look like a manwhore or something?" He raised an eyebrow, glancing at the folder he had just been handed. A small card was paper clipped to the front with Draco's name, date of birth, residence, classification, and a picture that smirked up at him, but otherwise looked rather bored.

Ernie rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "You don't have to be a whore to appreciate veela sex, believe me; it's irresistible."

"Have you… with him?" His eyebrows had managed to make it all the way into his hairline and his eyes were slightly larger than normal.

He straightened and smoothed down his shirt sleeves, avoiding Justin's eyes. "He wasn't exactly pleased when we informed him of the necessity to register with us and turn in weekly reports. He rather resents the reports, which I can entirely understand. They can tend to be rather… intrusive. Anyway, at our first meeting, he was sullen and, unsurprisingly, not cooperative at all. He cursed me from here to India and back when I started probing into his sex life. He turned on his pheromones to bend me to his will, I guess, and the next thing I knew, we were naked and sweaty in a stall of the men's room, going at it. Rather embarrassing, actually. He was my first veela case and no one bothered to inform me that they use their power of attraction against you if you piss them off. Some sort of ridiculous initiation, bloody ruthless if you ask me." He sniffed and flipped a wisp of hair to the side of his forehead. "Regardless, it was quite good and I most certainly recommend trying it. If anything, he's not exactly bad on the eyes."

Justin only stared at him, unable to say anything. The thought of beautiful Draco Malfoy allowing Ernie to have sex with him, of actually seducing Ernie, seemed… beyond all comprehensible thought. Ernie was all right, if one was a woman, he supposed, but Draco Malfoy was aesthetically perfect. Was he comfortable dating someone who had slept with Ernie already? Would Draco want more than just sex? Could he handle being with Draco if it was just sex, especially after the fiasco with Orin? Sighing to himself, he stole a piece of parchment from Ernie's desk and jotted down the address. He would keep the information and think it over when he got home. For now, he had to get back to work. "I'll have to think about it, but thank you for the information. I should be getting back to my department before my supervisor starts wondering about me."

"Not a problem; let me know if you go, will you?"

"'Course, you'll be the first person I tell." They exchanged a smile and Justin headed back down to his office, address tucked safely into his robes.

* * *

Justin walked hesitantly up to the address he had been given, wary of the haggard appearance of the building in from of him. It was a turn-of-the-century abandoned-looking factory with several broken windows and graffiti all along the lower floors. He peered at the buzzer and was surprised to see that D. Malfoy was the fifth option. He pressed it with some trepidation and jumped several inches when a house elf's voice floated onto the street. "Master Draco is still dressing; he is wanting Mr. Finch-Fletchly to come inside and wait."

Justin stared at the boarded-up door. "How?"

"Mr. Finch-Fletchly is walking through the door and taking the lift to the fifth floor."

"But the door is boarded up."

The house elf must have been confused because there was a muffled question, and then Draco's clear voice. "Remind him that he is not a muggle and neither is this a muggle neighbourhood."

Justin understood immediately and hurried to walk through the magical allusion and into the elegant lobby. A man who looked to be half-troll stood to the side, eyeing him menacingly. He gave the man a hesitant smile, made his way to the lift, and rode it to the correct floor. The doors opened to a sleek entry way and a tiny house elf who bowed low to him. "Master is welcoming you to his home. He is asking you to wait in the sitting room. Is you wanting a drink?"

Justin smiled and shook his head. "Thank you, but no. Do you know how long he will be?"

The elf looked hesitant. "Master is wanting to look perfect." Reading him to mean that it could be a while, he took a seat on the sofa and looked around at the elegant décor.

Fifteen minutes later, slim arms slid around his neck from behind and hot breath whispered into his ear, "Been waiting long?"

Justin turned in surprise and smiled at the sight of the blond. Grey, fitted robes clung to his every curve and certainly made him look every bit the perfection the elf had promised. "You look amazing."

Draco grinned enigmatically at him. "Thank you. Shall we?" He nodded and stood as Draco circled the sofa. "I've not heard of the restaurant, so you'll have to guide me," he said as he wrapped his arms around Justin's neck and pressed close to him. Justin was distracted enough to almost lose his concentration, but he managed to apparate them both in one piece.

The host grinned upon sight of them and quickly headed to them. "Mr. Malfoy, how lovely to see you. I had not seen your name on the reservation list."

Justin raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Draco let go of him long enough to kiss the man's cheeks, no signs visible of his lying. "That is because our reservation is for Finch-Fletchly. This is Justin, my date. Justin, this is Alberto."

They shook hands and Alberto took them to the best table in the restaurant. Justin waited until the waiter had gone to get their drinks before playfully kicking the blond under the table. "I thought you'd never heard of this place."

"They've changed the name…" he murmured mysteriously, looking down at his menu with a little smirk.

Justin smirked right back. "No, they have not. We took Ernie here for his birthday two years ago."

"Seduction is completely beyond you, isn't it?"

The Hufflepuff blinked at him in surprise. "You were seducing me?"

"Yes, of course. I was tempted just to drag you into the bedroom without dinner, but I thought I might offend your Hufflepuff sense of propriety or the like."

Justin snorted and held up his menu to hide his smirk. The rest of the evening went well and he didn't hesitate before agreeing to come up. Not that Draco's tongue shoved down his throat gave him any room to protest.

Draco woke the next morning to arms around him and for the first time in a long time, nothing nagged at him. He felt warm, comforted… safe. His eyes immediately flew open and he craned his neck to look at his bed partner. Justin was still blissfully asleep, snoring rather loudly; his nose was lifted an inch higher than what looked natural, as though it had been buried in blond hair until he turned his head. Snoring usually grated on his nerves like nothing else, but for the moment he remained unbothered. Carefully, he turned his body towards the other man, fingers splaying out on his chest. His cautious movement was in vain because a moment later the arms around him pulled him in tighter and brown, smiling eyes were peering back at him. "Hi," Justin whispered voice still scratchy from sleep.

Draco nudged his nose against Justin's cheek and kissed his jaw, unable to stop himself from touching as much as he could. "Morning," he whispered back, distracted by the need to kiss. This was new, this draw to touch and be touched, so insistent where it had always been only a pleasant hum before. Justin didn't complain, though, only arched his neck to allow better access and moaned into the nearest ear. The urge was made more insistent with the sound and Draco found himself crawling on top, kissing every part of his face, pressing his hips forward in a wanton way that he normally never felt the morning after a long and satisfying bedroom session. Justin was only surprised by his forwardness for a moment before he leaned up to capture his lips, pulling him down close. A spell was whispered and then Justin was pushing up into him, slowly but deeply. Draco was keening, feverish, almost resembling a cat in heat. Justin gently rolled them over, pressing the blond into the pillows, kissed him. Draco kissed back with open eyes, staring at him in a mixture of passion and wonder. When they pulled apart, Draco looked dazed and a word kept forming on his mouth, but no voice could be heard and Justin couldn't read his lips, and so he kissed him again.

Orgasm hit without warning for both of them, triggered by a rush of hormones in the air, and they strained against each other in the rush. Justin dropped his forehead to the blond's shoulder, felt lips hot on his ear, and a whispered "Mate." He stared down at his lover, but Draco was already settling in to sleep again, dishevelled but beautiful, and he decided that he would ask later. For now, he moved to the side and gathered the blond in his arms. Sleep came faster than he thought it would.

* * *

**Form:** 83352739

**Name:** Draco Malfoy

**Registry Number:** 625369

**Date:** 8 Jan 2003

**Age:** 23

**Mate: **Justin Finch-Fletchly─ possibly. If he is, I'm killing Potter.

**Current Location:** London, England

**Number of Sexual Encounter(s):** 2

**Name(s) of Partner(s):** Justin Finch-Fletchly 2(M)

**Age(s) of Partner(s):** 21

**Species of Partner(s):** wizard

**Description of Sexual Encounter(s):** I'm reacting to Justin in a way I've never reacted before, almost as though I were in heat. Does this mean he is my mate?

**Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s):** Yes

**If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects:** Standard lubrication charm.

**Did any encounter result in pregnancy:**

**Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate:** Yes

**If so, how and why:** The usual.

**Comments:** I'm worried and would like an appointment to meet with you to discuss the possibility of Finch-Fletchly being my mate. Please owl immediately with an available time. Thank you.


	10. Chapter 10

**Title:** Department of Magical Creatures Case #645369

**Author:** feltonxmalfoy

**Beta:** domtheknight

**Pairing:** DM/RW (eventually), DM/EM, DM/SF, DM/TH, DM/JFF, DM/CW, DM/multipleOMC's, RW/3OMC's, HG/OMC, BW/FD

**Chapter:** Ten

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** slash, swearing, sexual acts (but no details for now)

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** At 21, Draco Malfoy is on a journey to find his life mate, but is delayed by pesky Hufflepuffs screaming 'regulations' and 'laws'. Please, Malfoys play by their own rules.

**A/N:** Re-edited and re-uploaded 31/03/2008

* * *

Potter,

If you would be so kind as to inform me the next time my mother decides to travel to Azkaban, it would be greatly appreciated. It would also be appreciated if you would shield her from any contact with the Dementors. As I am certain you have already noticed, she is rather weak and sickly and I fear what the Dementors might do to her health.

Much gratitude,

Draco Malfoy

PS- If you would like to accompany me on a lunch date so that we may discuss what precisely went on during my mother's visit with Professor Snape; I would be more than happy to treat.

* * *

Harry raised his eyebrows at the post script; having anticipated some form of note from the instant Mrs. Malfoy requested her visit with Snape, but not anticipating an invitation to lunch. Did he want to go? He thought going would be an acknowledgement that they were developing a friendship, that he accepted Malfoy as tolerable and even enjoyable to converse with, an acknowledgement he wasn't sure he was ready to make. Was he prepared to be Malfoy's friend? Did he want to be? He wasn't as disturbed by the thought as he previously would have assumed himself to be. After having stared at the parchment so long the words began to blur on the page, he pushed the note away and shook the thoughts from his head. He would respond in the morning; for now, there was an evening with Regina to look forward to.

With his evening in mind, he began to pack up for the night, reports finished and plans for his next assignment already sent to Kingsley's desk for approval. Within ten minutes he was in his flat and headed for the shower. He was surprised to find Regina already sitting on his bed when he got out, clad only in a pair of lacy black knickers and a bra that left nothing to the imagination, her eyes trained on the towel around his waist as though she were willing it to fall. She smirked at the surprised look on his face. "I grew impatient. I've not seen you in over a week and that is far too long to have to agonize through dinner before getting you in bed."

"Oh…" It had been nearly a year, and yet Harry still had difficulty processing the fact that there was a woman in his bed and that she wanted him. He had been single and distracted from thoughts of his physical needs outside of food and sleep for so long that sex had become a background thought and every time he was with Regina, he was a bit disoriented by it.

Thankfully, Regina was not disoriented, and she managed to tug him closer by his towel before stripping him of it. His head cleared as soon as her warm hands touched his skin and he leaned down to take possession of her mouth. They crawled backwards on the bed together, mouths still fiercely attached. He broke away to suck at her pulse point, and whispered hotly in her ear, "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." She didn't say anything in return, but instead pulled him up for another kiss.

Later, as they lay curled together under the covers, Harry still could not resist running his hands over her body and pressing light kisses over her face. "I love you." It wasn't planned; he hadn't really even been aware that he was thinking it, but there was no taking it back once the words had been said.

Regina tensed for a moment before looking into his eyes and caressing his cheek affectionately. "You are very young," she whispered before kissing him. He wasn't quite sure what she had meant, but she was already asleep ─or at least pretending to be so─ and he was too tired himself to think about it.

* * *

Justin could tell that Draco had only heard maybe half of what he had been saying; his eyes were focused more on his clothing than his face and the glossiness of his eyes made it clear that Draco was mentally undressing him. After a moment, the blond shook his head and finally made eye contact. "What did you want to do? I'm sorry, I wasn't listening."

"The cinema, do you want to go to the cinema?"

Draco blinked at him. "The what?"

"The cinema, you know, films." When Draco only continued to stare blankly, it occurred to him that films were muggle and he might not have ever heard of one. All of his pureblood friends had at least taken muggle studies, but with Draco's family's hatred for the non-magical, Draco more than likely did not. "You've never heard of the cinema, have you?"

"No, but I'm going to guess and say that it's muggle."

"It is. It's like a picture, only there's sound and the people in them act out a story." At the confused look Draco gave him, he went on with another description. "It's like… looking into a pensive memory, sort of. Only none of what you're seeing is real. Does that make sense?"

Draco still looked wary. "I suppose… But why would you want to do that? I think going to the theatre would be a much better time."

Justin resisted a sigh and kissed him instead. "Is there a particular play you'd like to see?" he asked, resigned to the fact that his lover would never be entirely open to muggle culture without coaxing. Of course, subconsciously he had known that would be the case when he began seeing Draco, but he had also hoped it would not. If he wanted to be with Draco (which he did, with a ravenous desire he had not expected to feel), then he would just have to adjust to the fact.

Draco smiled up at him, warming him down to his toes. "There's a showing of Les Yeux Vertes at the Pinchwife theatre off Diagon. It's a French play, but I believe they've put a translation charm on the theatre." Though he was not a particular fan of the theatre, he knew that Draco was, and he was willing to do anything to make his lover happy. He nodded his consent and Draco extracted himself from his arms in order to grab his coat.

Minutes later as they were walking down Diagon Alley, Justin got an idea. If he wanted to expose Draco to muggle culture, all he need do is bring him home. "Would it be all right if we go back to my flat tonight? It's just I don't know your kitchen yet and I sort of have a tradition of making a rather large breakfast on Sunday mornings."

Draco blinked up at him. "But my house elf could make us a large breakfast if you like, and then you won't have to get out of bed."

Justin smiled and kissed his cheek. "You miss the point, love. I want to cook myself; it's part of the tradition."

"If you insist. I don't know why you would want to needlessly exert yourself, though, when you could be snuggled up with me."

"But if we're snuggled in bed, then we can't have sex on the counter like I planned."

Draco brightened up at that. "Now, that's a different matter entirely. You failed to mention the sex."

"If I've learned anything from being around you, it's that you should never reveal all your cards at once." That earned him a grin and a rather passionate public snog, neither of which were displeasing. He ushered his lover into the theatre with a pleasant buzz of warmth in his heart and visions of a very satisfying Sunday.

* * *

"MacMillan, if you'd be so kind as to join my in my office after you've returned from lunch, I would be much obliged."

Ernie stood frozen in the queue, unable to do anything but nod dumbly at his department head. There was a rumour going around the office that he was retiring and he had been calling a few of the more dedicated employees into his office for well over two weeks. Retirement or not, Ernie could not imagine what Mr. Winchester wanted with him, though. He had only been with the Ministry for a few years; surely there were more experienced candidates interested in becoming his replacement.

And yet a promotion was precisely what Mr. Winchester was offering as he sat nervously in the wooden chair in front of his desk. "Sir, I do not understand. Why not choose someone older? More experienced? I've only been working here a few years, there has to be someone better suited for the job."

Mr. Winchester surveyed him gravely. "Are you declining the offer or unsure that you deserve it?"

"Unsure, sir."

"Well, to be perfectly honest, I hadn't even considered you originally. I always intended for Robert to take over when I finally retired, but he was not interested. When I asked whom he thought would be the best choice, he suggested you. And now that I've really taken a look at you and your history with us, I can't say that I disagree. You may be younger and less experienced than some of our other employees, but there is a certain advantage to promoting a less experienced person. Someone who has been here for a considerable amount of time may know the intricacies of the department, but they will also have developed ideas of making 'improvements'. Change is often very beneficial, I know, but this department has run smoothly on the same system for over a hundred years with only minimal alterations to allow for modern situations. Drastic change could cause problems, disastrous problems if they involve some of our more volatile creatures. If I promote you, train you in the proper ways of running the department, I know that you are consistent and dependable enough not to make detrimental changes to the system."

He paused after the long speech to take in the surprised look on Ernie's face, and then came to an amusing conclusion. "Did you think I would not properly train you before allowing you to take over? My God, that would be a disaster." He chuckled and Ernie turned red.

"I didn't know what to expect, to be honest. I'd never even considered applying for the position when I heard the rumour that you were retiring, I just assumed I would be ignored. Are you certain there isn't anyone better? I've seen at least a dozen people meet with you over the past few weeks."

"Indeed, I've had more than a dozen applicants, but none of them were exactly right. I want you."

"May I have a few days to consider? This is a big decision, and I know my fiancée will be upset if I do not speak with her first."

"Yes, of course. You may have a week to consider. Any longer than that and I may have to cut into the training time, though, and I am certain neither of us wants that."

"No, no, of course not, sir. I will have my answer to you within the week. Thank you very much, indeed, sir." They shook hands and Ernie slipped out of the office, still looking a bit starry-eyed and lost. Robert grinned at him as he sat down.

"I take it congratulations are in order."

Ernie stared at him blankly for a moment before shaking his shocked look off. "Sorry? No, not yet. I asked him for a week to consider. Why on earth would you suggest me?"

"Because I thought you would do well, why not? I only didn't take the job myself because I would have to leave all my cases behind and I rather enjoy dealing with the separate creatures."

Ernie's eyes began to sparkle and he brushed his fingertips over a parchment sitting in the middle of his desk. "That's right, Mr. Winchester never interacts with individual cases unless they become violent, does he? I wouldn't have to deal with Malfoy any more."

"Indeed, you would not. Although, I don't know who you could convince to take him. He's fairly horrid to deal with."

"He's a menace. He's been wandering about Italy with a new vampire for the last six months and he won't read any of my notes warning him against it. I'm seriously considering sending Harry back after him."

"All the more reason to accept Winchester's offer. Then, you wouldn't have to deal with the little bugger anymore, at least not on a regular basis."

"True… I'll have to talk it over with Penelope tonight, see what she thinks." They shared a nod and a warm smile, and both got back to work. That night, Ernie talked it over with his fiancée and they decided it was in his and their best interest to accept. He started training the next week.

* * *

Thursday morning found Draco apparating to the Ministry right along with Justin, tired and a bit on edge for having to visit his least favourite place. Justin rubbed his back as they stood in the lift, comforting him as though he could feel the tension in his lover. They shared a kiss before separating, and Draco made his way to the magical creature's department and his meeting with MacMillan. As he approached the department, his brows furrowed in confusion; MacMillan was not at his desk and neither were any of the things usually found on his desk. Instead, the desk was littered with pink folders and picture frames, and a petite, young girl was sitting behind it, with pale curls and a lavender robe. Draco had to resist the urge to vomit.

"Pardon me, but I seem to have misplaced my case worker. Where has Ernie MacMillan been moved to?"

At the sound of his voice, the girl looked up and beamed at him. "Mr. Malfoy, how lovely to finally meet you. My name is Emma Wilder." She stood and held out her hand as though she intended to shake his, but he only looked at it with disdain and repeated his question. She looked hurt for a moment before natural cheerfulness took over and she beamed once more. "Mr. MacMillan's been promoted to the head of the department. He isn't able to monitor individual cases any longer, so I volunteered to take most of them, including yours. Would you like to sit down and we can discuss your mate?"

Draco looked askance at her. "No, I would not like to sit down or discuss my mate with you. I am not going to share intimate details of my life with a stranger, and least of all with the likes of you. Now, where is MacMillan's new office? I'll just take my file and we can forget this entire incident ever happened."

She bit her lip in worry and indecision. It was obvious that no one had informed her of his disposition and displeasure at having to reveal such personal information, even to MacMillan whom he had known since they were eight. "I… I understand that the nature of this situation can be uncomfortable, but I assure you that I am nothing but professional. I'm certain that if you were just to sit down, we could discuss this rationally and you will find that we may get along rather agreeably."

"I do not see such an outcome. If you would just hand my file to me, I can be on my way and we needn't have any sort of discussion." She stared up at him with wide, panicked eyes, mouth opening and closing as though she did not know what to say. Draco huffed impatiently and leaned over her desk so that they were face to face. "I do not know why they let you take over my case, little girl, but you can not handle me. Now. Give. Me. My. File." He glared at her and she held out a pink folder with shaky hand, his twenty-one-year-old self sneering up at her. He snatched it up and turned to the desk next to hers and a wizened older wizard whom he knew had been acquainted with MacMillan.

"Where has MacMillan moved?" The man pointed to a door towards the back of the department, amusement dancing in his eyes. Draco ignored his look and briskly manoeuvred through the desks until he reached the office door, which he entered without as much as a knock.

"If you think for one moment that you are going to push me onto some mousy, inarticulate, frivolous little girl just because you'd been sodding promoted, you have gravely underestimated my tolerance level. I have revealed to you the most intimate details of my sex life for two years now, under coercion I might add. I am not about to be shoved aside and disregarded." After taking a breath and smoothing down his robes, he nodded to the very surprised-looking Minister sitting across from MacMillan's desk. "Good morning, Minister, it's lovely to see you, again."

Scrimgeour greeted him in kind, still a bit taken aback by the abrupt interruption.

"Mr. Malfoy, perhaps it would be best if we discussed this at a later date. As you can see, I am in a rather important meeting and…"

"I can see that, but as you already scheduled a meeting with me and I am in a life-altering situation, you will have to excuse my rude entry."

"Your meeting was scheduled with Miss Wilder, you may find her at my former desk."

"I have already seen Miss Wilder." He spat her name out as though it were a rotten cauldron cake. "Miss Wilder has no in-depth knowledge of my case and is obviously new. I am in a delicate, life-or-death situation, I do not want an amateur giving me the wrong information and causing me to become sick, as my mother is."

MacMillan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before giving the minister an apologetic look and casting Muffliato on him. "Malfoy, do you believe that Justin is your mate?"

"Yes, but I also believed Smith was my mate for a few days as well, so this could just be a false alarm."

MacMillan squeezed his eyes shut and prepared himself, knowing that the next words out of his mouth were morally and ethically wrong and yet not caring after the outburst that had just occurred. "Sexual aggression and possessiveness are both signs that the partner involved is your mate." He fumbled through a drawer and pulled out a small stack of parchment. "Fill these out and we'll set up an appointment for Justin to register. Please don't ever burst into my office like this again."

Draco took the stack in exchange for his file and left with a nod to Scrimgeour. Ernie took off the spell and quickly apologized before continuing their previous conversation.

* * *

Draco stood on the front step next to his mate, wary but determined to make a good impression to make up for all the bad impressions he had previously given. This family was the closest he would ever come to in-laws, given Justin's parents, and he would more than likely be dealing with them on an intimate basis for the rest of his life. Justin squeezed his hand reassuringly, managing to balance their gift in his other. There was a commotion from behind the door as the bell was rung once more, and then the stoop was flooded with light and a grinning, rosy-cheeked Molly Weasley. The grin seemed to slip a bit at her glance at Draco. She quickly shook off whatever discomfort she felt and engulfed Justin in a hug. "Hello, dear, how are you? I'm so happy you could come, I've not seen you in too long."

Justin beamed back at her. "I'm well. How are you?"

"Excellent, dear. I see you've brought a date, as I asked." She sounded as though she was very much regretting having asked him to. "Hello, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco smiled politely and bowed to her, though he was loathe to do so. He quickly chastised himself for the thought, reminding himself that any arguments with the Weasleys would hurt Justin. He made a polite, if slightly forced, reply and they were ushered into a room with yet more Weasleys. Arthur was enthused by his gift, a miniature car that barely looked large enough for a garden gnome, let alone a person. Draco didn't understand it, but Arthur had been delighted.

He was not surprised to find the twins or their respective girlfriends in attendance, but he was surprised to see Percy there with his wife and two little boys. Draco had been under the impression that there had been a falling out between him and the rest of the family. Whatever had happened, it must have been mended though, because his younger son was in Mrs. Weasley's lap and she looked delighted to have him there.

There was also a gorgeous looking man, obviously another Weasley, whom Justin introduced as Charlie. According to Justin, Charlie lived in Romania and was only home for his father's birthday and a symposium on the latest advancements in vetri-wizardry for dragons. Draco had a difficult time keeping his eyes off the man when Justin wasn't in the room. He tried to avoid him as much as possible and stuck close to Justin for that very reason.

Mrs. Weasley continued to treat him with distant politeness, pointedly ignoring the way he was always in physical contact with Justin or the way Justin always looked to include him in the conversation. Justin appeared too bright-eyed and happy to be with his adopted family to notice.

They hadn't been at the home more than an hour when a knock announced another party guest, and Draco was surprised to find Potter with a box that looked more to have been attacked by old issues of Marvin the Muggle than wrapped in them, followed by Granger and a tall man who looked just as dry and boring as Granger, carrying a pristinely wrapped box of gold and red. Granger's eyes went immediately to the only blond head in the room and her eyes widened slightly, but she didn't say anything as she slid onto the floor next to the chair the tall man (Mrs. Weasley called him 'Nigel') sat in. Potter didn't notice until after Granger's gift had been opened, but unlike Granger, he exclaimed his surprise, leaning around Fred to look at him. "Malfoy, what are you doing here?"

Draco sat rigidly and tried to appear more sophisticated than he felt while willingly mingling with Weasleys. "Justin invited me."

Harry blinked owlishly at him. "You mean Emma wasn't just being naïve, he really is your mate?"

Draco set a glare on him. "Yes, and I advise you to watch you back because I am going to kill you." But Harry wasn't listening; he had burst into fits of unmanly giggles at the first sign of confirmation, attracting the attention of the entire room.

"What's so funny, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

Harry had to take a moment to compose himself before he could answer her. "It's just a joke between me and Malfoy, sorry." Mrs. Weasley looked askance that Harry and 'that Malfoy boy' had inside jokes, but said nothing and all returned their attention back to Arthur.

The evening went rather smoothly, all things considered. Mrs. Weasley slowly began to warm up to Draco, though neither quite dropped their overly-polite manner. It appeared that once Mrs. Weasley saw that Harry accepted Draco and could speak amiably with him, she relaxed.

Of course, she never saw the scene between the two just outside the toilet on the second floor. Harry had just walked out, without washing his hands, Draco noted, and Draco was leaning against the wall glaring at him, wand loosely pointed in his direction. "This is entirely your fault, you realize."

Harry grinned at him, not needing any further explanation to know what he was referring to. "I don't think it had anything to do with me. This is all karma coming back to bite you in the arse."

Draco rolled his eyes. "And what in the hell is karma?"

"Muggle theory that whatever you do in life comes back at you. If you're a good person, good things happen; if you're a bad person, bad things happen. You spent the majority of your life making fun of muggleborns, now you're going to spend the rest of your life with one."

"I don't believe that exists. Now, shall I hex your bits entirely off or leave them and merely make you impotent instead?"

"Doesn't matter, I can send you to Azkaban just as easily for either."

Draco was about to reply when Justin appeared at the top of the stairs, eyes lighting up as soon as they met with blonde hair. "There you are, I've been looking for you. Arthur's about to blow out his candles." Harry was headed past them at the first sign of cake, leaving them alone in the hallway. Justin took immediate advantage of the situation to pull Draco close and nuzzle his neck. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Mmm, I would be more if you were kissing me." Lips were on his before he'd even finished the sentence. They stood there, kissing, for several minutes. Their kisses were relaxed and unhurried, as if they could spend all evening just like that, and Draco thought he could. He had never felt this sort of warmth for another person, this need to be near them, just touching. It was probably another sign that Justin was his mate, and if it was, it eased the tiny voice in the back of his head that still occasionally spouted uncertainties.

Eventually, Justin pulled back far enough to speak. "Should we go downstairs before they start to get ideas?"

"I suppose, though I'd rather stay here."

"We'll continue tonight when we go to bed. I'll reset the silencing charms on Ron's room and no one will be the wiser."

Draco straightened. "Ron's room? Why would you do that?"

"Otherwise Harry will hear us, Ginny's old room is right under Ron's and that's where Harry always stays."

"We aren't staying the night here, are we?" He looked horrified at the very thought.

"It's tradition; we always stay the night and Molly makes a big breakfast in the morning for everyone. She'd be really upset if we didn't."

"You never mentioned this before."

Justin looked confused and then contrite at the sore look he got for it. "Sorry, Love, thought I told you. It's all right, isn't it? Ron's room is at the top of the house, no one will bother us. And I got rid of most of the orange when I lived here."

Draco sighed and looked away for a moment as though in thought and then nodded heavily. "Alright, but only because I'm already on the wrong foot with Mrs. Weasley and I know it'll make you happy to get along with her."

Justin beamed and kissed him. "Thank you, it'll make us both very happy. Now let's go down and get some cake."

* * *

"Now, I said I got rid of most of the orange, but not all of it because I knew Ron would kill me, so don't go mad. It isn't my fault, I promise." Draco nodded absently, distracted by a fevered feeling and an impatience for Justin to just open the door rather than leaning against it with his hand on the knob. As long as it had a bed sturdy enough for a long, hard fuck, he really did not care at this point. Finally, the door was opened and Draco was hit with the most intoxicating scent he had ever encountered before. The force of it caused a spontaneous release of all his pheromones and before he knew what was happening, the door had been slammed behind them and Justin had pressed him against it.

They were kissing, hard and insistently, while fighting to rip each other's clothing off. Justin tripped out of his pants as they made their way to the bed, accidentally tumbling onto it with an already nude Draco pressed under him. He let out a muffled laugh from around Draco's Adam's apple and Draco moaned and squirmed underneath him. He fumbled in a drawer for oil, and Draco didn't question why it was still there, though neither Justin nor Ron had lived there in quite some time. Instead, he focused on pushing his lover onto his back and taking the small vile from him. Justin looked puzzled, but he only smiled sexily in answer while pouring some of the oil on his own fingers. He moaned as he pressed the first, then second finger in, and began to rock back onto them. His eyes shut momentarily as he flickered his middle finger against his prostate, but opened again with a grin at Justin's whispered, "Fuck…"

"You liked that?" he whispered hotly back, delighting in the groan his words elicited. "You like watching me fuck myself with my fingers?" Justin was panting, hand desperately pulling his erection, which was throbbing and so swollen it was nearly purple. Draco thought he might be behaving cruelly by making his mate watch rather than participating, and so he pulled his fingers out and shooed Justin's hand away from his erection. He used the oil still on his fingers to slick the erection before guiding it inside him without hesitation. Both moaned as he sank down, and Justin leaned up for a kiss.

He pulled away to a sight that shocked him. As he looked into Justin's eyes he saw an intense adoration that he had never seen before. Justin cradled him close, leaning up to kiss his cheeks, his forehead, and suddenly they weren't just having a frantic, pheromone-induced fuck, they were making love. And just as suddenly, Draco realized that he didn't ever want to leave these arms, that despite his earlier misgivings, he knew that Justin was his mate and that he wanted Justin to be his mate.

The realization that his search was finally over caused him to be overcome with emotion and he suddenly felt tears spring up in his eyes. He swooped down and devoured Justin's mouth, teeth tugging at his bottom lip, and it was only a few moments before they were both calling out, clinging together as they climaxed.

They kissed as they came down, Draco pressed in close, still connected. As they settled into sleep, Justin whispered, 'I love you' and for the first time, Draco whispered it back.

* * *

**Form:** 83352739

**Name:** Draco Malfoy

**Registry Number:** 625369

**Date:** 10 Feb 2003

**Age:** 23

**Mate:** Justin Finch-Fletchly

**Current Location:** London, England

**Number of Sexual Encounter(s):** 26

**Name(s) of Partner(s):** Justin Finch-Fletchly 26(M)

**Age(s) of Partner(s):** 22

**Species of Partner(s):** wizard

**Description of Sexual Encounter(s): **I refuse to answer this question. What happens between my mate and I is sacred and beyond the bounds of discussion.

**Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s)?:** Yes

**If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects?:** The usual.

**Did any encounter result in pregnancy?:**

**Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate?: **Yes

**If so, how and why?:** I was impatient for a latte.

**Comments:** My mother tells me there is another form when you meet your mate, why have I not been sent it?


	11. Chapter 11

**Title:** Department of Magical Creatures Case #645369

**Author:** feltonxmalfoy

**Beta:** domtheknight

**Pairing:** DM/RW (eventually), DM/EM, DM/SF, DM/TH, DM/JFF, DM/CW, DM/multipleOMC's, RW/3OMC's, HG/OMC, BW/FD

**Chapter:** Eleven

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** slash, swearing, sexual acts (but no details for now)

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** At 21, Draco Malfoy is on a journey to find his life mate, but is delayed by pesky Hufflepuffs screaming 'regulations' and 'laws'. Please, Malfoys play by their own rules.

**A/N:** Re-edited and re-uploaded 31/03/2008

* * *

Ron returned to work the fourth Monday after the Betrayal, as he had begun to call it. He found Raleigh crouched in front of a wall in the antechamber, apparently scanning the text written on it for changes. He looked up upon hearing Ron's footsteps and surprise and then pity passed over his face before he walked over to pat Ron's shoulder. "Glad to see you back, my boy. I'm sorry to hear about that boyfriend of yours, always thought he was the wrong sort."

Ron smiled awkwardly and looked around. "Thanks, where's Bill?"

"In the burial chamber. We're trying to go over everything, see if maybe we'll find another pictograph. We haven't found anything thus far, though."

"Well, maybe we'll get lucky, you never know." Ron went through the tunnel to find his brother. It wasn't until he reached the burial chamber that he noticed that Raleigh had followed him. Bill was crouched near the floor, head turned almost upside down and resembling a confused dog. Ron tried to ignore the animal-like posture and the picture of his oldest brother covered in blood that flashed through his mind. "Find anything yet?"

Bill looked up sharply, apparently having not heard them enter the chamber. A huge grin plastered his face as soon as his eyes fell on Ron. "Hey, little brother. Good to see you back." He stood to greet him and clapped him on the back.

"Good to be back. Have you found anything yet?"

"No, but we haven't lost hope yet, right Raleigh?"

"Of course not. We'll just have to keep trying."

Ron glanced at Raleigh before turning his attention to the wall decorations. "What about the museum job? Is it still available?"

"I'm not sure, but I'll find out. Do you have a resume?" Ron looked down at his feet, scuffing one shoe against another.

"Harry and I missed that seminar at school…"

"Well, we'll have to put one together for you. Why don't you come over for dinner tonight and we'll work on it?"

"Yeah, sure. That sounds good." They shared a smile and turned to the wall as a group. They spent the rest of the day scanning over the hieroglyphics, but no new information surfaced and Ron could tell that Bill and Raleigh were both becoming frustrated.

* * *

Ron came home with Bill that night to an enthusiastic welcome by Fleur. Ron was shocked to find that she was glowing ─ quite literally─ and they'd barely got through the door before she burst out with the reason why. "I'm pregnant! Isn't it wonderful? I am so 'appy!"

Ron grinned and kissed her cheek. "Really? That's great! You're glowing."

"Yes, I know; it is perfect. Being pregnant agrees with me, I think." She took the opportunity to preen and Ron had to force himself to look away. Damn her veela hormones. He only hoped Bill had missed the lapse, but looking at his brother, it was obvious that he only had eyes for his wife. "You are looking well, too, I think. We are getting over that awful boy, yes?"

Ron forced a smile, though his heart was clenching, and nodded. It was taking longer than he would like, but the ache seemed to be lessening with each passing day. It was even getting easier to not think about Forten, at least not every second of every day. Yesterday, he'd managed to only think of him twice─ at least, until he crawled into his large, empty bed. He blinked away the thought and looked down at Fleur. "It's getting better."

"Good." Her face lit up in a smile and she reached up to kiss his cheek before turning to Bill and kissing him full on the mouth. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. I expect the table to be set when it is, hmm?" She kissed him again before gliding off back into the kitchen, a faint glow trailing after her. Dinner was simple, but good, and filled with Fleur's excited chatter about the baby and all the plans she had for converting the guest room into a nursery. After cleaning up, Bill and Ron settled into the living room to put together Ron's resume and cover letter. It took a few hours and some very unhelpful comments from Fleur, but before Ron left for the night, it had all been completed and compiled with an application for employment, as well as the references Bill and Raleigh had both prepared, and was on its way to the museum.

Ron was owled for an interview three days later and nervously set an appointment day.

* * *

**Ronald Bilius Weasley**

87 Kasr El Nil St., Fourth floor, apt.25, Giza 12411

Floo: Sandstorm Flat

**Education:**

1991 – 1997: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

1998 – 1999: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

**Qualifications:**

OWLS: Astronomy (A), Care of Magical Creatures (A), Charms (E), Defense Against the Dark Arts (E), Herbology (A), Potions (A), and Transfiguration (E). 1998

NEWTS: Astronomy (E), Charms (E), Defense Against the Dark Arts (O), Herbology (A), Potions (A), and Transfiguration (E). 1996

**Professional Development**

Year Abroad:

Defensive Skills 1997

Ability to identify and neutralize dangerous hexes on objects and buildings 1997

Dark Arts 1998

Ability to investigate foreign sites for evidence 1998

Problem solving 1997

**Internship:**

- Knowledge of Egyptian Mythology and Archaeology 1995

- Ability to navigate complicated dig sites with ease 1996

- Technical knowledge of the Archaeological processes 1996

**Work Experience**

Archeological Assistant

assisted a professional Egyptian archaeologist on a daily basis

participated in archaeological digs at Djedfre,

Personal Achievments

Assisted Harry Potter to track down and destroy four of Voldemort's Horcruxes

Assisted to develop the spell used by Harry Potter in the destruction of Lord Voldemort

Oversaw the largest chess match in British history

First place champion of chess association of Britain 3 years consecutively

Represented the Gryffindor Quidditch house team as Keeper

Founding member of the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare

**Personal Details**

Date of Birth: 1 March 1980

Nationality: British

Marital Status: Single

Health: Excellent

Heritage: Pureblood

Apparition License: Full and clean

* * *

Father White was astounded at what was coming out of Mrs. Anderson's mouth. When his secretary informed him that one of the mothers wanted to talk to him about an important matter, he had assumed it had something to do with one of the students. Instead, she was talking about one of his teachers, one of his most respected and well-liked teachers at that.

"You say he was at the bar with another man? And appeared to be… intimate with this man?"

The look of fury on her face only increased. "Yes, they looked as though they were attempting to crawl into each other's clothing! How can you allow such a monster to teach at this school?"

"Now, now, no need for harsh language. You are positive that it was Mr. Smith that you saw and not just a gentleman who looked like him?"

"Of course! We were only at the bar because I'd seen a flier for his band. I wanted to see if my children's teacher really was a talented musician. I had no way of knowing we would meet with such an abomination!"

Father White wiped at his brow worriedly. He liked to think of himself as one of the more progressive clergyman of his diocese, but he knew that many of his parishioners would not tolerate homosexuality in their church or their school. If the allegation was true, he would have no action but to fire Michael immediately.

"I'll have to call him to the office to answer to these charges before I can take any action, you understand. He has never been accused of any indiscretion before, let alone one of this magnitude."

Mrs. Anderson huffed and muttered a few angry epithets under her breath. He only hoped she would calm down before Michael arrived. He left the room momentarily to speak with the school secretary, who sent the hall monitor with a note to the music room. Within a few minutes, Michael appeared in the doorway looking slightly befuddled as to why he was there. Father White gave him a bracing smile and indicated the chair next to Mrs. Anderson. "Michael, if you could take a seat, I need to speak with you about a very serious matter that has just been brought to my attention."

Michael hesitated before taking the seat, muscles tensed in worry. "What's wrong? Has something happened to one of my students?" he asked.

"No, no, it's nothing to do with the students. I want to ask you a very serious, very personal question and I need you to be completely honest with me."

"Okay…"

Father White braced himself and took a deep breath before asking, "Are you a homosexual?"

Michael froze, his skin losing all colour and his eyes growing wide in shock. The mother next to him was glaring viciously at him. "I… what would make you ask me that?" he asked, attempting to stall what he knew in his gut was an inevitable confession.

"We will get to the how in a moment. Right now, I need you to answer the question."

Michael looked down at his hands, shaking in his lap. This was it, the moment he'd been dreading from the day he began to work at the school. He was going to have to tell the truth and he was going to lose his job. He took a few steadying breaths before locking eyes with his principle. "Yes, I am. I never told you because I didn't think it had any bearing on my teaching abilities."

"You know this is grounds for dismissal, correct?"

He nodded sadly, biting his lip to hold back a sudden rush of tears. "Yes, I'd thought that might happen."

The woman beside him bristled. "It most certainly should! What you're doing is an abomination! You should be ashamed of yourself."

He turned to her in shock, staring at her as though he didn't know her and hadn't taught her children for three years. "Mrs. Anderson, I'm sorry that you feel that way, but this isn't something I chose. I was born a homosexual, and if it were wrong, I don't think God would have made me this way."

"You weren't born that way; you chose to live in sin. How dare you blaspheme God like that!"

"I'm very sorry you feel that way, Mrs. Anderson, but this isn't a choice. I didn't choose to be gay, I just am. No one chooses their sexual orientation; it's chosen for them before they are born. I can't help it any more than I can help having dark hair or blue eyes."

Father White stepped in before the woman could continue yelling, as it was obvious from the red colour of her cheeks that she intended to do so. "Regardless of the nature versus nurture debate, I'm regretfully going to have to let you go, Mr. Smith. If you could please go and clean out your desk, I will have Mrs. Rubens take over your classes for the rest of the day."

Michael looked horrified. "What do you mean? I can't finish out the day? What am I going to tell the kids? They'll want an explanation; I can't just leave them without saying goodbye."

One glance at Mrs. Anderson's murderous look told him that she would not tolerate such an action. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you stay. I will explain the situation as tactfully as I can to the students myself."

Michael considered arguing more, but knew that it would only make the situation more difficult, so he nodded instead and stood. "I'm very sorry if I've disappointed you; I never meant to cause any trouble. I just love this school and my students and I wanted to help them. If I've caused any harm, it was unintentional, and I deeply regret it. Though I do not, nor will I ever, feel ashamed for being what I am." The last he spoke through clenched teeth, glaring violently at the woman who had just destroyed his career, his life. He left the office calmly and tried to stop his hands from shaking as he cleared out his things and left the building. He managed to keep it together long enough to make it back to his apartment, but as soon as the door closed behind him, he sunk to the ground, shaking violently and sobbing. His boyfriend, Jordan, found him that way three hours later, when he returned home from work, and after a broken explanation, took him into the bedroom and held him as he cried.

* * *

"Mind stopping by my office quickly before we go and see Ernie? I left my jumper last night and I want to get it before I forget."

Draco nodded distractedly, eyes focused on the forms in his hand. Justin smiled and kissed his temple, causing the blond to lean into him. Draco had been preoccupied all morning, fussing over everything from what they wore to what colour ink they'd filled the forms out in. Justin had tried to relax him with sex, but Draco still thought of little things to worry about even mid-coital. Now they were in the lift and finally almost to the appointment. As they neared the floor, the bottom was falling out of Justin's stomach. He kept convincing himself that Ernie had been mistaken in assuming that Draco's initial reaction was too mild to be the real thing, but subconsciously he knew that he wasn't really Draco's mate. He worried that Ernie would try to bar the registration. If Draco found out that they weren't really destined, he would lose him and Justin loved him already, too much to allow that to happen. And so he was stalling by going to the office. He hadn't left his jumper, but Draco was too distracted to notice that he never picked one up.

The lift opened onto the second floor and he directed his boyfriend down the hall to the muggle/wizard relations office. He left him outside and went in to rummage "for the jumper". When he walked back out, he was surprised and aggravated to see Higgs glaring at Draco with a curious Orin at his side. Draco barely looked at him with a disgusted wrinkle of his nose and moved to Justin's side, insinuating himself under Justin's arm.

"Flavour of the month, are we, Finch-Fletchly? Why am I not surprised that you went after my seconds once again?" Justin looked to Draco, confused by the comment. He hadn't been aware of any connection between Draco and Higgs besides house affiliation. Draco sneered.

"Seconds? Is that what you call all the men who are so disgusted with you that they throw you out? I seem to remember you being very upset that I turned you away. How very interesting that you had had a change of opinion only after you've been tossed out on your arse."

"I've had time to realize what an unworthy demon whore you are."

"An unworthy whore, am I?" He raised a cynical eyebrow. "That would be why I am going with my life partner to register him as my mate, wouldn't it? I am not a whore, nor am I a demon, and even if either term were to apply to me, I am a veela and have strong sexual instincts. You and the whore at your side do not either of you have any such excuse." He turned his face up to Justin. "I'm tired of this conversation, love. Shall we go?" Justin nodded and quickly steered him back towards the lifts, wanting to get as far away from Higgs and Orin as possible. Draco wrapped his arms around him as they stood in front of the lift doors and kissed him without regard for who was looking. Justin only allowed it because he wasn't working that day and he wanted to make Higgs jealous, if just for a moment. They entered the first lift to arrive and headed back down to the Fourth floor. Justin wanted to ask Draco about his relationship with Higgs, but there were other people in the lift, a few he knew by face if not by name, and so he stayed silent and just put his arm around the blond instead.

It felt as though the entire Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was staring at them as they made their way to Ernie's office. These people knew him; he was in to visit Ernie enough, and he knew that Draco had the reputation of the most difficult creature the department had seen since Fenrir Greyback (though for very different reasons, obviously). Draco walked into the head office without knocking, heedless of any prior meeting Ernie might have had.

Ernie looked up and rolled his eyes at Draco before turning to Justin with a smile. "Good morning. Here to register?"

"That's what I requested this meeting to do, yes," Draco drawled, slinking into one of the chairs in front of Ernie's desk. Justin sat next to him and smiled hesitantly at his old friend. He felt too awkward and terrified to speak, so he let Draco go through the preliminary questioning and only half-listened to what was being said. After about half an hour of conversation, Ernie asked to speak with him alone. Draco protested at first, but gave in once Justin perked up and squeezed his hand comfortingly. Once they were alone, Ernie gave him a stern look. "This is on the knife-edge of illegal, you know."

Justin wrung his hands guiltily. "I know it is, but I can't help it. If he finds out I'm not really his mate, he'll leave me, and I can't lose him. He's my life; I need him."

"You've only been seeing him a few months. It can't have become that serious already."

"It is. I can't explain why, but I don't think I could function without him anymore. Please do this, as a mate, a close mate."

Ernie looked disgustedly down at the file with Draco's picture on it and shook his head. "I don't understand what you could possibly see in him ─ besides the veela bit. He's a complete wanker."

"Not to me. He loves me ─ needs me. He… makes me feel needed, like I'm the only thing that keeps his world spinning. How could I not fall head-over-heels for that?"

"Easliy. But if this is what you want, I'll help you. I'm not filing this paperwork, though, nor do I advise you to allow him to bond with you. Both are highly illegal and can result in a visit to Azkaban, understood?"

"What should I tell him about the bonding? He's already started talking about it."

"Whatever you like, just don't do it. If I ever see the bonding mark on your wrist, I'll have you arrested myself. I may hate Malfoy, but I'm not going to be responsible for his death."

"Death?" Justin was suddenly very alarmed. What did death have to do with Draco and his bonding?

"Yes, death. If you bond with him and then he finds his true mate, the despair of never getting to be with his true mate will kill him, just as it would if his mate were to die."

Justin swallowed and stared at Ernie with wide eyes. "It will?"

"Yes, so you have to make certain that you do everything in your power to prevent it."

"Of course I will. I would never do anything to harm him."

Ernie didn't reply, but instead wrote something on one of the forms and filed them all away. "Anything else before I send you off?"

"I'm trying to convince Draco to go to the pub tonight, want to come?"

Ernie looked hesitant for a moment. "Only because it's you."

"Brilliant, I'll firecall you with details this afternoon." They shook hands and then Justin went in search of his boyfriend. The blond stood outside the door, sneering at little Emma, who had replaced Ernie when he was promoted.

"Be nice. Emma's never hurt anyone," he whispered into his ear. Draco turned to him with a smile and kissed him. "Is everything all right now?"

"Perfect. Shall we go home?"

"You could not get me out of here fast enough."

* * *

Hey Draco,

I'm glad you found your soul mate finally; I know it was a real problem for you. I'm not going to lie, I was surprised to read that you had. I never thought you'd keep writing once you found him. I'm glad that he doesn't mind you writing to me and that you want to keep our friendship even after you've settled down. I really enjoy getting letters from you; it's nice to know that I have someone to talk to about the things that are going on in my life who is able to look at them objectively. Especially now that something's happened and I'm at a loss as to what to do.

I've been fired from my school. I had a show a few weeks ago and apparently one of the more conservative parents went and saw me there with Jordan. She went to Father White complaining and threatened to go to Cardinal Francis George if I wasn't let go immediately. I know Father White didn't want to do it, but he had no choice in the matter. Still, I could see the disappointment in his eyes, you know? Like I'd let him down by loving the wrong person. I feel terrible. And the worst part about it is that they didn't even let me finish out the day; I didn't even get to say goodbye to my kids. A few of the parents want to bring in a psychologist to see if I abused any of the boys. How could anyone possibly think I could do something like that? I love those kids, I would never do anything to hurt them! The whole thing is a nightmare; I don't know what to do.

Jordan thinks that I should hire a lawyer and put together a discrimination suit, but I don't think that's a good idea. It would cost a lot of money and I don't think I really have a case. I mean, it is a Catholic school; they aren't sanctioned by the government the way public schools are. And besides, despite what they've done, I could never do anything to hurt them. It's still my church. I grew up going there and, I don't know, I feel like I'd be betraying them and accomplishing nothing. What do you think?

I feel like I'm having an identity crisis. I'm working as a substitute, but I'm not even sure I want to teach anymore after what's happened. Maybe I could go into music therapy or start playing back-up full time or something. I don't know. I just feel so out of my depth, you know? I know that I've been anticipating something like this happened since I began working at the school, but in the back of my mind I never actually thought it would happen.

Even though I know you're completely committed now, and so am I, I can't help but wish you were here with me. As much as I love Jordan, and as much as he has been supportive through all of this, I would still rather have you with your sharp mouth and your answer for everything. I know that if you were here, I would know what to do rather than being stuck in this Limbo. But, of course, you're not and I don't expect you to be. Really, I shouldn't even be thinking these things. Maybe I'm having a quarter-life crisis, huh? I don't know. Hopefully, I'll figure things out soon. For now, I miss you and I hope you are healthy and happy.

Love,

Smith

* * *

Draco stared at the letter, unsure of what to make of it. He couldn't believe that those vicious Catholics had dismissed him, but he also didn't know what to make of Smith's final paragraph. A part of him was throwing up defensive barriers around his relationship with Justin, but there was another part of him that felt a kind of longing to be in America, with Smith, taking care of him. He felt odd and unsettled and could barely stop himself from squirming in his seat. It was ironic, what Smith had said about Justin accepting their continued correspondence, since Justin didn't know, had never even heard of him going to the States, let alone meeting a gorgeous Blues musician he'd fancied himself in love with for a time. That would no longer be the case when Justin moved in, of course; there was no other way he could explain the carrier pigeons who brought him messages every few weeks.

He looked at the letter again, re-read it, and stared at it in hopes that it would give him some kind of idea as to what to write back. He was distracted by the sound of apparition before he could come up with anything and quickly stuffed the letter under the chair cushion. Justin was in the room a moment later, looking tired but generally pleased to see him. He settled into the sofa next to the blond's chair and leaned over to kiss him hello. "How are you?" he asked.

Draco grinned up at him and slid out of his chair and into his lover's lap. "I'm wonderful now that you're here." He kissed him again, teeth lingering to tug at his bottom lip, tongue massaging it. Justin made an appreciative noise and returned the kiss, pulling him close by his arse. Soon they were writhing against each other and pulling at clothing in a desperate fashion, letter completely forgotten for the present.

* * *

Ron, when he thought of it at all, had always imagined that job interviews were done in offices with stuffy receptionists and uncomfortable chairs, but this was nothing like that. He stood in the middle of a dig site armed only with a name and little idea of where to find the person who belonged to it. Seth Abdul-Latif. He looked around at all the men hauling baskets and hoped to find someone who looked like he might be in charge. Off in the distance he could see a rotund man dressed in brightly-coloured robes who looked to be directing the goings-on around him, and Ron made his way towards him, hoping for help.

He had walked over intending to great the man in Arabic, but the very round man greeted him in cheerful English before he could get the first word out. "Afternoon! You must be the Englishman looking to be my assistant."

Ron paused, taken aback by the accented English. He hadn't been addressed in English by an Egyptian in months. "Are you Mr. Abdul-Latif?"

"Only if you're Ronald Weasley." The man—Seth—grinned at him, showing a row of perfect, pearly white teeth. He laughed at the confused look Ron gave him. "I am, my boy, you needn't be so uptight. You are nervous, I can see. Do not worry, I am sure we will get along well." Ron smiled, still on edge. "Your resume says you have been on digs before; would you like to join me down in the tunnels and we can discuss your employment?"

"That'd be great, sure." With Mr. Abdul-Latif at the lead, they descended into the cramped, shadowy corridors, the large man chatting about the particulars of the dig as they went. Ron listened with interest, glad that he hadn't been required to speak a great deal yet. They arrived in a chamber deep inside the pyramid, through a doorway so narrow that Ron wondered how the rotund man had managed to squeeze through, and were now standing in front of a regular-looking mural of slaves building various statues. Ron looked from the mural to Seth, unsure as to why he was being shown this particular set of hieroglyphs.

"What do you see?" Seth asked, his eyes glittering with some sort of amusement.

"Er…" He looked back at the mural, taken aback by the question. "It… uh, it looks like a scene of slaves building a monument to the pharaoh. Fairly common, isn't it?"

Seth's eyes continued to glitter at him. "Keep looking." As Ron continued to look, still befuddled as to the point, the picture began to change, and Ron took a step back in shock. It was the pictograph they'd found in Djedefre's tomb, nearly exact except that the head worshiper was the owner of the tomb they happened to be in. Ron stared at Seth, speechless.

* * *

**Form:** 83352739

**Name:** Draco Malfoy

**Registry Number:** 625369

**Date:**10 Feb 2003

**Age:** 23

**Mate:** Justin Finch-Fletchly

**Current Location:** London, England

**Number of Sexual Encounter(s):** 19

**Name(s) of Partner(s):** Justin Finch-Fletchly 19(M)

**Age(s) of Partner(s):** 22

**Species of Partner(s):** wizard

**Description of Sexual Encounter(s):** Sod Off.

**Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s)?:** Yes

**If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects?:** The usual.

**Did any encounter result in pregnancy?:**

**Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate?:** Yes

**If so, how and why?:** I dislike being told 'no'.

**Comments:** You have once more failed to answer me as to whether or not I will be receiving a new form, preferably one that does not contain the request to describe my sexual encounters with my mate. I don't want to have to send Justin up to get them from you, but don't delude yourself into thinking I won't.


	12. Chapter 12

**Title:** Department of Magical Creatures Case #645369

**Author:** feltonxmalfoy

**Beta:** domtheknight

**Pairing:** DM/RW (eventually), DM/EM, DM/SF, DM/TH, DM/JFF, DM/CW, DM/multipleOMC's, RW/3OMC's, HG/OMC, BW/FD

**Chapter:** Twelve

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** slash, swearing, sexual acts (but no details for now)

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** At 21, Draco Malfoy is on a journey to find his life mate, but is delayed by pesky Hufflepuffs screaming 'regulations' and 'laws'. Please, Malfoys play by their own rules.

**A/N: **There are no words for the length of time it took me to finish this chapter. I'm sorry and I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Draco insisted that they apparate into the foyer rather than the front door of his family home. He knew that Justin was already ridiculously nervous to meet his mother and he didn't want him to be any more intimidated upon seeing the grandeur of the grounds than he already was going to be. And so at five minutes to four that Sunday afternoon they arrived to a dozen house elves that all looked as nervous as Justin.

Ignoring his mate for the moment, Draco addressed the head elf, "Is Mother in the parlour?"

"Yes, Master Draco. Mistress is waiting for Master and Master's mate."

"Splendid. This way, love." He took Justin's hand and turned towards the back parlour, anxious to see his mother and introduce her to his mate. As they moved along the hallways, Draco began to notice that Justin was less awe-struck by the grandeur of the Manor than he had expected him to be and said so, interrupting the loud murmurs of the portraits as they passed.

"I may live humbly now, but my family is a part of the aristocracy. My uncle is a Lord and has a manor of his own. The portraits don't move, obviously, but otherwise it is quite similar."

"Indeed?" Justin nodded, smiling faintly at the disbelieving look on Draco's face. "Well, please fail to mention that fact to my mother. To her you are a pureblood who comes from a low-ranking family, understood? Knowing otherwise might kill her." He said the last bit over his shoulder as he pushed the door open to the sun room. Narcissa looked considerably better than usual, almost back to her full glow. She stood at their entrance and greeted Draco with a tight embrace before turning to Justin, eyes alight with pleasure. Justin looked spell bound by her.

"Mother, this is Justin Fitch-Fletchly, my mate. Justin, this is my mother."

Justin puffed up a bit, trying to display the stance and mannerisms he had not utilized since his admissions interview for Eton College. The look was ruined slightly by a nervous twitch at the corner of his smile. "Mrs. Malfoy, it is a pleasure to meet you finally. Draco has told me so many wonderful things about you."

"Though I cannot have the pleasure of returning the compliment, as Draco has only just told me of your existence a few days ago, I am more than happy to finally meet you. I have been waiting for you since the day of Draco's birth." She embraced him and kissed his cheek before directing him to Draco's usual seat next to her. Draco was more than happy to take a winged-back across from them, pleased that his mother was accepting of his mate so quickly.

"You look radiant, Mother. You've been taking your potion?"

"I have. Severus is most insistent that I do so, and I would not want to disappoint."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Mother, I told Potter..."

"He is insistent in letter alone. I have not gone back to visit him yet." Draco opened his mouth to respond, but Narcissa continued before he had the opportunity. "Severus can wait. I want to know all about your mate. What was your family name again, dear?"

"Finch-Fletchly, ma'am."

"I've not heard it before. Where are they from?"

"Bath, ma'am."

"I thought I knew all the Bath families. How curious..."

"His family has been rather down-trodden of late, Mother. They haven't had the advantage of the Ministry connections the Weasleys have and are not generally about in society." Justin looked about to protest, but Draco loosed a small amount of pheromones and calmed him before he could.

"How unfortunate. You will just have to take our name when you bond." She patted his knee affectionately, oblivious to the offended look on his face.

"Justin works at the Ministry, Mother," Draco informed her, hoping to change the subject and thus Justin's mood.

"Does he?"

"Yes, he works with Arthur Weasley."

"Do you? Does that mean that you work with Muggle... objects?"

"I used to, yes, but now I work directly with the Muggles themselves."

"Really? How horrible. We shall have to find a way to change your position. Perhaps we could find you a place in the Minister's office? Antigone got on with him quite well at school. I'll have to speak to her..."

Justin was protesting without actually being able to speak. Draco saved him the trouble by quietly interrupting her rambling. "Mother, as certain as I am that Justin appreciates the gesture, I do not think it would be necessary. Though he does work with Muggles, he rather enjoys his job. Don't you, love?"

"I do indeed, very much so. Thank you for the sentiment, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Please call me Narcissa, dear. After all, we're family now."

"N–N–Narcissa, but it won't be necessary."

"Of course, dear." She smiled magnanimously at him, light glinting against her hair and sparkling across her skin. Draco was mesmerized. He hadn't seen his mother look this radiant since he left for Hogwarts.

"Has something happened since I was here last? You look... much changed."

She straightened and set her shoulders, looking ready for a fight. "I wish to speak to you about Severus."

"You are not to visit him again without me; you've already promised."

"Of course not, dear. I was rather hoping that he could visit us."

Draco and Justin both went wide-eyed. "What? How?"

"Well, I was hoping that you might speak to Harry. I know you have developed a friendship of sorts with him and I thought he might consider negotiating Severus' release into our care. There is such a thing as house arrest, is there not?"

He didn't know what to say. That had been the last thing he expected to come out of her mouth. His shock caused the first, and most inappropriate, thing that entered his head to leave his mouth. "What could possibly have put that thought into you head?"

She gave him a reproachful look for his impertinence, but answered his question just the same. "He has told me that he is innocent of the crime they have imprisoned him for. Dumbledore had drunk a poison that night while on a mission with Harry and was going to die quite a horrible death soon afterwards anyway. Severus was taking the pain away, allowing him to die in peace, as well as saving your soul from splitting in half."

"Mother, forgive me, but he is a Death Eater and he is lying to manipulate you in your weakened condition."

"My condition is precisely what convinces me that he is telling the truth. What good would it do to tell me a lie? I am a widowed veela believed to be half-mad. Who would listen to me? Severus is unaware of your friendship with Harry, and even if he was aware of it, he has been pressuring me to continue with my potion. Doing as he has asked has improved my condition considerably and made me less vulnerable. Why would he do such a thing if his intention was to manipulate me?"

Draco sighed and buried his face in his hands. Her points were valid, but there was no way in Hell Potter would allow it to happen. "You're right, Mother, of course. Severus has no reason to lie to you. However, innocent or not, his wand caused Dumbledore's death and Potter is never going to forgive that."

"I'm not asking him to forgive. I just want to bring Severus home so that he might be useful to society. He has agreed to brew the Wolfsbane potion and any other the Ministry might need. The house elves have prepared a full laboratory for his use." One look at the earnest, insistent look on her face convinced Draco that she would not let the matter go and so he quietly agreed to speak to Harry. Her face lit up at his concession. "Wonderful. I know if you speak with him, he will see the sense in it. He seems to be a reasonable sort of man."

Draco tried not to snort at the very idea that Potter was a reasonable sort. He did not say so, however, as he knew it would only bring his mother's censure. For whatever reason, it looked as though Potter had somehow won his mother's favour and he knew there was no arguing her out of it. Instead, he turned the conversation back to Justin and discussion of their moving in together. All-in-all, Narcissa seemed pleased with the idea. She even went as far as to suggest that they prepare rooms in the Manor, so that the couple might settle properly, but one look at Justin's panicked face convinced Draco to postpone such plans. They had plenty of time to settle down. They had a lifetime. And wasn't that a wonderful idea.

* * *

Later that night Draco sat at his desk, staring blankly at Smith's letter without any idea of what to write in reply. His heart ached for this man, his American as he had begun to think of him in his head. That Smith had lost his happiness just as Draco had found his was terrible, tragic. He wanted to be there as badly as Smith clearly wanted him there, but he could never leave Justin, would never leave his mate, even for someone who had comforted him when he was beginning to lose hope.

Sighing, he tugged at his hair in frustration. There had to be something he could do. And then suddenly, it came to him like an apparition. If he couldn't leave his mate to go to Smith, then he would find a way to bring Smith to him. He was quickly out of his study and kneeling in front of the floo. He found himself staring at Cousin Imogene, working at her knitting on one of the sitting room couches.

"Imogene, lovely to see you. Might Aunt Antigone be at home? I have something I wish to speak with her about."

"I'll send for a house elf to fetch her, one moment." She turned and called for an elf and quickly instructed it to fetch her mother. A few minutes later, she entered the room with all her usual haughtiness and Draco had to resist rolling his eyes. After all, he needed her.

"Draco, what an unexpected surprise to see you. To what do I owe such a late call?"

"I was hoping you might assist me in an inquiry. An American acquaintance of mine has recently found himself without employment due to his employer's unfortunate prejudice against homosexuality. He is an absolutely brilliant musician, as well as a music instructor, and I was thinking that perhaps you might know of a family or two in need of a music tutor."

"A music tutor?" She looked surprised, as though this was the last thing she had expected him to ask. It probably was, being rather random in nature. He shuttered to think what she had thought he would ask. "I assume he is qualified?"

"Yes, he had been working at a Catholic school in his native Chicago, but as I'm sure you will remember from Cousin Josephine, the Catholics are not particularly fond of homosexuals and as soon as they were made aware of his orientation, he was made redundant."

"How unfortunate. If you would give me a day or two, I might be able to find someone. Will that be acceptable?"

"That would be more than acceptable. Thank you very much, indeed, Aunt Antigone. I will not forget this." He nodded to her with great meaning and bid farewell before cutting off the connection. Justin walked into the room at just that moment and crouched down to kiss him.

"Who was that?"

"Just my aunt. I wanted to talk with her about some family business. Nothing important."

"Well, if you're finished, do you want to go to bed a bit early?"

Draco raised an eyebrow, a lascivious smirk upon his lips. "Will you be naked in it?"

"I was hoping we both would be, actually." Justin's eyes glittered with sexual innuendo, Draco's favourite.

"Mmm, that sounds lovely. Lead the way."

* * *

A few days later, an owl arrived with a note from Aunt Antigone giving him the name of a family she knew in need of a music tutor. She instructed him to contact the matriarch, a woman named Cordelia Graves, and that Mrs. Graves was expecting his owl. He did so quickly, explaining the situation and outlining all he knew of Smith's qualifications. He tried to give as glowing a review of Smith's accomplishments as he could and hoped that it would be enough. It turned out that such exaltations hadn't been necessary because Mr. Graves was in fact Merton Graves, cellist for the Weird Sisters, and he had apparently run across Smith during a tour in much the same way Draco had (minus the sex, of course). Mrs. Graves told him that her husband had been delighted at the idea that such a talented musician would be teaching his children while he was away with his band and unable to do so himself.

Draco was ecstatic to have found a way to help his friend and set about writing immediately.

* * *

My Darling Smith,

I cannot express how my heart aches for you. I knew that your school and your students meant the world to you and cannot imagine what it must have felt like to be rejected by them. My immediate response was to write you a list of hexes to put on them, all very discrete and nearly untraceable, but I thought better of sending them. I know you said that you would never want to hurt any of them and I don't know about you, but some of the hexes I came up with would have been too much for me myself to resist. Thankfully, I was able to come up with an alternative solution; one that I think will be infinitely more pleasing to us both.

I have a proposition for you, one that took a bit of time to procure (which is why I have been so late in writing you). I know of a family who live in London who are in need of a music tutor. I am not personally acquainted with the family, but my aunt is close friends with the wife's mother and assures me that they are of a very good sort. You might actually know the husband, Merton Graves. He plays cello for the Weird Sisters and he has apparently seen you play in Chicago. According to his wife, whose letters I have enclosed for you to examine, he would very much like you to teach his children. The children themselves are Beatrice, age 6, and Raya, age 3. My cousin, Imogene, assures me that they are both delightful and I'm sure with their musical background that they would be excellent students.

Cordelia has outlined what they are willing to offer you in her letter, and it looks like an excellent package to me (which says quite a bit given that I am ridiculously rich and have no problem saying so). I am aware that you believe money isn't everything, though the concept is entirely beyond my own comprehension, and so I will endeavour to convince you in another, perhaps more enticing way.

If you were to come to England, it would give you a chance to clear you head and figure out what you want to do with your life. It will also bring you closer to me, something I know we both want. I feel the same way you do; I have found my soul mate, but that does not detract from my wanting to be near you. Perhaps it is selfish to say so, to want you here when I already have someone, but it is the truth and I could never be anything but honest with you. As for Jordan, there is very little standing in the way of communication between our countries. You might write to him as you do to me, but you might just as easily use international floo powder. I used it quite often to talk with my mother while I was in Italy; it's quite simple. And I would come and see you often. My flat is in London and if you were here, I don't think I'd be able to resist coming to see you as often as I could.

I hope you will consider this offer very closely. I think it will be an excellent way for you to start fresh. Please come, I miss you.

All my love,

Draco

* * *

After a month sneaking around the forest of Southern Russia looking for a werewolf more notorious than Greyback, Harry was anxious to get back to England and back to his lover. He made the mistake of flooing into her private rooms without owling first to let her know that he was back, and got a nasty surprise for his trouble. Entangled on the bed in the middle of a rather loud fucking was Regina and a man Harry had never seen before. Harry stood frozen in front of the fire, unable to comprehend what he was seeing, but feeling his heart break just the same.

He had told her he loved her and meant it. He should have known something was wrong when she didn't say it back. And now here he stood, watching her with another man, completely oblivious to his presence. In the back of his mind, he knew he should leave, but his body was under a kind of _Petrificus_ and all he could do was stare. _She's a whore. She's a whore. She's a whore. _It kept repeating through his head in Draco's voice. He had been right and Harry had been too stubborn to listen, too blinded by his infatuation. He should have known better. All his training taught him to know better. And yet, he had been duped.

While Harry still stood frozen, the activity on the bed became rabid, convulsive. Regina rose up, pulling the man in for a kiss as she always did with Harry and something in him snapped. In a fit of violence, he tore the man off her and threw him to the ground, straddled him, and began pounding into him. The man lay in shock for a moment before fighting back, attempting to get a hold on Harry and pull him off. Somewhere in the background Regina screamed, shouting for him to stop, for help, for anything, but Harry was too wild with rage to hear her. All he could see was the blood splattering at every hit of his fist, and all he could hear was the sound of bones crunching together.

Suddenly he was ripped from the man and held firmly back by two men, whom he recognized once he began to breathe again as two of his fellow Aurors, both staring at him in shock. "What's got into you, Potter?" exclaimed Mentz, a senior Auror a few years older than Harry.

Harry turned his eyes to Regina, who was kneeling on the bed, clinging to a sheet to hide her naked body, a body he had worshipped, loved. "Her," he growled. "Malfoy was right; you are nothing but a dirty whore. I hope you rot in hell for this."

"Take him away! He attacked me without reason! I don't even know how he got in here," the bleeding, whore-stealing man exclaimed as he dragged himself up from the floor.

Harry made a move towards him again, but the Aurors held him back. "No reason?! You're fucking my girlfriend, you stupid fuck! I came back after six weeks away hoping to see the woman I love and walk into this and you say I had no reason! Fuck you, you bloody fucking arse!" The man looked as shocked to hear it as Harry had been upon seeing them in bed together. Harry sneered at him and turned away towards the floo. "Take me away, if he wants it. I don't care. I don't want to look at them anymore."

A junior Auror named Wrightly did just that, leaving Mentz to take statements and such. When they arrived at the Ministry, Wrightly looked uncomfortably around as though he didn't know what to do. Harry didn't blame him. He had no idea what he would have done had he been required to bring in his own training officer when he had been a junior Auror. As it was, he sighed and headed towards the lifts. "Come on. I suppose you'll have to book me if that arse intends to press charges."

"Are... Are you certain, Mr. Potter?"

"You can call me Harry. I've told you a million times. And yes, I'm certain. No use in both of us getting our arses handed to us, now is there?"

After some more hesitation, Wrightly finally agreed and took Harry down to Auror headquarters. He was booked, much to the bafflement of his co-workers, placed in a cell, and spent half an hour being verbally ripped apart by his superior. By the time Hermione arrived to bail him out, he was on two weeks suspension without pay and facing a possible stay in Azkaban. Hermione wasted no time in berating him as soon as they were on the street.

"What could you possibly have been thinking? You've never been violent like that before. And to a total stranger! Have you lost it?"

"He was fucking my girlfriend! I walked in on them trying to go see her. I'd just got back from assignment, hadn't even got back to my own flat yet, and I walk into that? I lost it, Hermione. Bloody Hell, who wouldn't?"

Hermione looked a mixture of sympathetic and cross. "I'm sorry, Harry, but you still should have shown more control. This is going to reach the papers now, you know. You're lucky you've still got you job."

Harry sighed, scratching the back of his neck, thankful she hadn't heard about the possibility of Azkaban yet. "I know, Hermione. My boss was just in there for an hour telling me the same thing. I couldn't have stopped myself, it was pure instinct."

Hermione blew a wild curl out of her eyes, obviously beyond frustrated. "Well, I spoke to Ron and we think it might be best if you go and stay with him for a bit. At least until the press dies down."

"Isn't Ron still depressed about Forten? Would it really be a good idea for him to have to see me every day?"

"I think he's beginning to heal. If anything, you might use each other to vent out your frustrations. I know you must be hurting inside all that anger."

His face pinched as though in pain. "I'm devastated. I don't know what I'll do without her. It might not be worth it to even try again..."

"Harry..." she whispered as she tugged him into a hug. "You are a wonderful person, you know that? She obviously is not. Don't give up just because you got a bad egg. You're better than that. You deserve to find someone who will love you and appreciate you for who you are. You've certainly earned it." Harry didn't say anything, but he squeezed her tight and buried his face in her hair. They stood on the street, hugging, for a long time before Harry finally pulled himself together and they went back to his flat to owl Ron. In the end, it was decided that he would take his suspension time to relax in Egypt and drink himself into a stupor, though he didn't tell Hermione the last bit.

* * *

Justin was unpacking the last of his clothing as the pigeon arrived with Smith's answer. Draco, who had been directing the house elf in arranging Justin's favourite chair so that it didn't clash with his designer furniture, momentarily forgot himself in his excitement to read the response and caused the bird to panic and squawk loudly enough for Justin to hear.

"What was that?" he called as he poked his head out from the bedroom. His eyes immediately landed on the carrier pigeon pecking around Draco's feet and travelled up to the letter in Draco's hand. "What's that? Who sends a pigeon?"

Draco stood frozen in place. He hadn't intended on telling Justin until... well, he hadn't intended on telling Justin at all, if he was honest with himself. He had no idea how his mate would react when he found out that Draco was trying to finagle his old lover into moving half-way across the globe to be nearer to him. He silently scolded himself for being too enthusiastic for Smith's reply and braced himself for the fight he knew was about to come. "It's from an American friend of mine. They use pigeons in America." He suddenly felt incredibly stupid, a completely foreign feeling that he didn't like. Malfoys were never meant to look stupid, and yet here he was, practically fumbling for words in front of his mate.

"What American? I didn't know you knew any Americans." The hurt in his eyes cut Draco to the core. He didn't like making his mate upset and had to fight the instinct to go to him and coddle him with kisses and nakedness.

Instead he looked down at the letter with his name scrawled across the front in Smith's messy script. "I went to America on holiday briefly before I went to Italy with Blaise. We met at a bar his blues band was playing at and he took me around, showed me the sites. He's very nice and he teaches music to school children. Or at least he did, but he was recently fired from the Catholic school he had been working at because the parents found out he was gay and apparently they do not approve of our kind. I've found a family in London in need of a tutor and have been trying to convince him to take the position."

"How did you know he was fired if you only met him on holiday?"

Draco fidgeted, another uncomfortable action that he was not used to and disliked immensely. "We still write sometimes."

There was a rather long pause and Draco dreaded what would next come out of Justin's mouth. "Were you lovers?"

He took a deep breath and looked up into his mate's eyes. "Yes, but it was quite a long time ago. And I wasn't mated yet. You can't forget that. He doesn't mean anything more to me than Blaise does anymore, just a friend. You're all I want now."

"Right…" There was another long pause. "But you still want him to come."

"He's a good friend. Why wouldn't I want him to come?"

"I don't want to share you with him. I've already done that and it turned foul."

Draco straightened, a look of surprise and confusion on his face. "Share me? Why would you have to share me? We're mated. I'm yours, always will be. I thought I'd made that clear."

"Yeah, but you still want this other bloke here, taking you away from me. I don't like it." Draco smiled, walked the few steps until he stood in front of him, and took his face in his hands, kissing him tenderly.

"You don't have to worry. I love you and I always will. Smith is a friend and nothing more."

"Does he know that? What if he still has feelings for you? What if he tries to take you away? I couldn't bear it."

Draco said nothing, kissed him instead, desperate to show him the truth. The kiss was hard, demanding, an insistent push of tongues and teeth and bodies that soon found them on the carpet, naked and writhing together. There were no more questions after that, but Draco still waited until after Justin left for work the next morning before checking the letter.

* * *

"Is that Ra? I... are you... when..." Ron didn't know where to begin. It was their pictogram with only slight variations. He couldn't believe that he was seeing it. Should he say as much or would Bill kill him for giving away their research?

"This image is familiar to you, I know. You don't have to say so; I have my spies. You and your brother and that man Rookwood intended for you to work with me so that you could sneak into our sites to investigate. I know this." Ron looked at him in panic. He would tell the goblins. He would be fired. Worse, they'd stuff him in a dragon-guarded vault to starve to death. "Now, now, you needn't worry. I will not get you in trouble. I have a proposition for your team. I think it would be better for both of our research if we work together, no? Your bank has access to areas that we do not and our museum has access where you do not. If you were to work for me, then we might share notes. What do you think?"

"Er.." He almost didn't know what to think. From a strategic standpoint, the offer made sense, but that was just his novice opinion. What would Bill and Raleigh think? Would they be willing to share with this stranger? Could they trust him? He already said he'd spying on them. And who was this spy? Bill was very vigilant about keeping their research secret from all but the three of them. He needed to talk to Bill. "I'd have to talk to my brother. It sounds like a good idea, though. Would you want me to quit Gringotts?"

"It would be ideal for your safety, I think. The goblins are not a... forgiving species in general and I do not think they would like it if you were to continue with them."

Ron scratched at his hair and nodded, a wry smile on his lips. "I don't suppose so, no. They'd be ready to kill me, probably. Do you mind if I go and talk it over with Bill and Raleigh?"

"Not at all, go right ahead. I'll be here all day."

"Great, cheers. I'll see you later, then." They shook hands and Ron headed out of the tomb, deciding as he went that he would go home first and change out of the stuffy interview robes Bill had lent him. He found Harry sitting at the kitchen table, staring down a bottle of Ogden's finest.

"Don't do it, mate. You don't want Hermione finding you pissed in the middle of the afternoon. It's not worth the headache, believe me."

Harry looked up at him, his eyes dull with a sadness Ron knew all too well. "How'd the interview go? You've not been gone long."

"Didn't have to be. He knew all about me and our work. Knew our plan to sneak into Nefertari's tomb and everything. It was a bit scary there for a moment, but it turns out he's looking for the same thing we are. Wants to work together, compare notes, that sort of thing. I'd have to quit Gringotts, but it might be a nice idea to work with someone I'm not related to for a bit, yeah?" He had walked into his room to change as he was speaking and ended up shouting the last few sentences out the open bedroom door. Harry abandoned the firewiskey and went to lean against the door frame.

"What's Bill say to that?"

"Don't know, going to ask him right now. I don't know how long this could take, so if I'm not back by seven, you're on your own for supper. Don't get too smashed."

Harry smirked wryly at him. "I make no promises. Good luck."

"Cheers, mate. See you later." He waved and apparated to the Unas spot where he knew his brother and Raleigh would be. It took a bit of searching, but he found them on the south side of the causeway, arse-deep in what looked to Ron like an empty stone-lined pit. "What are you two doing in a pit?"

Bill and Raleigh jumped at his voice, both having been concentrating rather hard on what they were doing. "Ron! Done already? Don't tell me it didn't go well; we made sure you had excellent references," Bill said as he climbed out of the pit.

"Went a bit wonky, actually. He called me out, knew exactly what we were up to. He's looking for the same thing we are and wants to work with us, if you can believe it."

"What do you mean, he knew? How could he have when we haven't told anyone?"

"Don't know. Said he had a spy, but I couldn't think who it could be. He said he's keen to hire me, though. And he'll get us into Nefertari as long as we get him into a few places he doesn't have access. He seems like a nice enough bloke, but I don't know. What do you think?"

Bill exchanged a look with Raleigh and then they both turned back to him. "I think we better talk to him ourselves. This sounds a bit suspicious."

"I thought so, too. I can take you to him, if you'd like."

"I think we would. Raleigh?"

"Right-O. Get me out of this pit and we'll be off. I'm very interested to see what he has to say." Bill gave the old man a hand up and both took Ron's arm for guidance. Soon they were back at the tomb Seth's team had been excavating and as soon as they were in sight of it, both Bill and Raleigh gasped.

"Akhenaten!" both exclaimed as they looked at each other with wide eyes. Ron looked at them curiously, unsure of what had brought up the name, though he recognized it as belonging to the pharaoh they suspected had killed Ra, if in fact the myth wasn't a really a myth.

"This is the tomb of Akhenaten, though no one has, as yet, found his actual body. This is... serious. We have to talk to this man immediately. Where is he?" Bill asked, turning to his brother.

Ron looked about and, not seeing the rotund man, went in search of him, followed closely by his companions. They found him just inside the doorway talking in fast Arabic to a young boy they recognized as one of their runners.

"Mahdy!" Bill exclaimed in surprise. Both looked up, the boy in fear while Seth gave Bill a big smile.

"Mr. Weasley, how happy I am to see you! I see you know my son. Do not be upset at him; he only does what his father asks of him. He is a good boy." He patted the boy on the shoulder and waved him off. The boy quickly ran away with an apology to them over his shoulder. Seth smiled after him and turned to the three men standing before him. "Now, I will make guess you are here to speak about my offer, yes? What say you to a late lunch so that we might talk in private?"

All three looked at each other before nodding in agreement. "Lunch would be acceptable. Where?" Raleigh asked.

"There is a restaurant in Cairo I think would be good. It is not a far walk from the main apparition point. You know where that is, yes?" They all confirmed that they did indeed and, with a few instructions to a gentleman nearby, they were gone.

* * *

Smith stared at the letter in front of him. Teach in England? Could he do that? He would have to get a passport and... well, he wasn't really sure what all he'd have to do. Could he really leave the country? Leave all his family? His friends? His band? What was Jordan going to say? Granted, it wasn't as thought he would never be allowed to come back home if things didn't worked out. And Draco was right; the international floo was easy to use, even if it was a bit expensive. With the salary the Graves family looked like they wanted to give him, he could definitely afford it. He remembered meeting Merton Graves, a tall, thin man with long black hair and beard streaked through with purple. He had thought the man (and his band mates) eccentric, but certainly friendly and kind. Maybe he would like working for his family. Maybe he would like England. He liked Draco and Draco was from there.

He rubbed at his face and sighed. His thoughts were too scattered. He needed to talk to someone, Jordan or his parents. Jordan was at work, but his mother should be home if she wasn't at lunch with her friends. He got up to get the phone and dialled his parents.

"Michael, I'm so glad you called. I know you've been depressed about your job. I hope Jordan's taking care of you. You've been eating all right?"

Smith smiled into the phone, glad to hear his mother's rambling voice. "Yeah, Mom, I've been eating okay. I actually wanted to talk to you about my job. Do you remember me telling you about that English guy I met last year?"

"The pretty one with the funny name who said he wasn't human?"

"Yep, that one. I've been writing letters to him and I told him about what happened at St. Francis and he has a job offer for me. There's this family that's a friend of his aunt's that's looking for a music tutor for their children. The pay is really, really good and I've met the husband before through my band. The thing is, it's in London. What do you think I should do?"

"London? London, England? As in across half the US and the Atlantic Ocean from us?"

"Yeah, what do you think?"

There was a pause on the other end and he could almost hear his mother biting her nails. "You'd have to move there?"

"Yes, I would have to move there."

"Would you be moving immediately?"

"Well, I'm sure I'd have to get a passport and like a green card, or whatever their equivalent is, but the letter from the mother says she'd like to meet with me as soon as possible so we could work out the details."

"Won't you be lonely if you move all the way over there?"

"I might, but Draco said he'd visit me and it's not like I couldn't just floo back here whenever I wanted. They make international floo, you know."

"Of course I know that, but it's expensive, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but the salary is more than enough to be able to afford floo powder for us."

"What does Jordan say?"

"I haven't talked to him yet. The letter just came and he's still at work."

"And you weren't called today, I take it."

"No, it's been a slow week."

"I'm sorry to hear that, honey."

"Yeah, that's another good thing about this job. I wouldn't have to wait by the phone every morning to find out if I'm going to get to work. And I'd be making much more than eighty dollars a day."

"Is this something you think you could be happy doing?"

He paused, uncertain how to answer. He knew he enjoyed teaching music, and there was nothing to say that he wouldn't enjoy teaching it to two children rather than an entire class. It might even be better that way, if he could have more one-on-one time with each girl. The way his classes had been structured at St. Francis, one-on-one time had been nearly impossible. And he would get to see Draco, which would be wonderful. Thought the more he thought about seeing Draco, the more he felt as though he might be betraying Jordan just by thinking of him. "I... I think I could be. I mean, I've never been to England, so I don't know how different it would be to live there, but it would be nice to have just the two children to teach, a lot more interactive. And I'd like to get to see Draco more often; I haven't seen him in almost two years."

"I thought you were happy with Jordan."

"I am. Draco has nothing to do with Jordan." Even as he said it, he knew it wasn't true, but he would never tell his mother that.

"But I thought you had been with this Draco."

"I have, but we're just friends now. Nothing to worry about."

"I hope so, dear." But his mother didn't sound convinced. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I have to go, Mom. I've got a lot to think about and Jordan should be home soon. I'll see you at Aunt Julie's on Thursday?"

She let out a heave of a sigh. "I suppose so. If you decide what you're going to do before then, call me. Your father and I like to keep tabs on you, you know."

"I know, Mom. I love you. Tell Dad I love him too, okay?"

"I will, dear. We love you, too."

He hung up with a sigh and buried his face in his hands. He felt more confused than before, but there was a seed of decision growing deep in the back of his brain. He would still have to talk things over with Jordan, but somehow he knew that whether Jordan approved or not, he would be going.

* * *

**Form:**83352739

**Name: **Draco Malfoy

**Registry Number: **625369

**Date:** 2 April 2003

**Age: **23

**Mate: **Justin Finch-Fletchly

**Current Location: **London, England

**Number of Sexual Encounter(s): **23

**Name(s) of Partner(s): **Justin Finch-Fletchly 23(M)

**Age(s) of Partner(s): **22

**Species of Partner(s): **wizard

**Description of Sexual Encounter(s):** Absolutely not.

**Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s)?: **Yes

**If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects?: **The usual.

**Did any encounter result in pregnancy?:  
**

**Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate?:**  
Considering that he has been found and yet I am still filling out the same forms as I have been, yes.

**If so, how and why?: **Must I continue to fill this out? It seems a bit redundant at this point.

**Comments: **Why is it that when I sent my mate to retrieve the new forms from you, you rebuffed his efforts? Are you being obnoxious on purpose or is this your natural state of being? I don't know what I was thinking even asking, of course it is your natural state.


	13. Chapter 13

**Title:** Department of Magical Creatures Case #645369

**Author:** feltonxmalfoy

**Beta:** wwmrsweasleydo

**Pairing:** DM/RW (eventually), DM/EM, DM/SF, DM/TH, DM/JFF, DM/CW, DM/multipleOMC's, RW/3OMC's, HG/OMC, BW/FD

**Chapter:** Thirteen

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** slash, swearing, sexual acts

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** At 21, Draco Malfoy is on a journey to find his life mate, but is delayed by pesky Hufflepuffs screaming 'regulations' and 'laws'. Please, Malfoys play by their own rules.

**A/N: **It is sad that I am proud that it did not take an entire two years to finish this chapter. I apologize once more. I've struggled with the Egyptian lore for longer than I really should have, but it is finished now, and I think I have a better handle on my writing now. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and encouraged me to continue. Believe me, your reviews helped get this chapter finished. Guilt, dear readers, guilt is what urges me to write (just a hint for if the next chapter is three years in the making. Hopefully, it won't be).

-----

After further discussion with Jordan, as well as Smith's father, his decision was made. He would go to London and work for a year to see how it went, and if he enjoyed it, then Jordan would find a job and move there with him. Smith had been surprised at Jordan's acceptance of the decision, but Jordan had only told him to look at the distance as a test on their relationship. If they could survive a year apart, then they were meant to be together, and if they couldn't, it was better to know before too much was invested in the relationship. Smith was hesitant, having had a picture in his head of Draco naked and prone beneath him, begging for a fuck, but agreed with the assessment anyway. He supposed that Jordan was right; if he was meant to be with Jordan, then whatever temptation Draco might bring could and would be overcome.

Monday morning found him at the main post office off of Jackson Boulevard, waiting in a line four people thick to get a passport application. The room was massive and the click of heels across the tiled floor echoed against the high ceiling. The man at the front of the line was arguing with the teller, something about the fee being ridiculously high. Smith wasn't really listening; instead, he was going through what he needed to do to get to the UK. After his passport, he would have to apply for a work visa, get the paperwork for his wizarding passport and send in the application Cordelia Graves had sent him. Sometimes he wished he didn't have to go through two different and entirely unconnected bureaucracies just to get through everyday life. He would have skipped the muggle government, but he didn't want to get stuck somewhere in muggle London without any proof that he had entered and was working in the country legally.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice when the line moved up finally. The argumentative man was standing to the side, tapping his foot. As Smith stepped forward, a woman in the blue uniform of a postal worker came up to him and began speaking calmly. She was obviously a supervisor and her presence seemed to relax his anger, if only a little. Smith absently watched the exchange as he waited for the line to move, which it quickly did, and soon he was out of the massive black cube of a building with a yellow passport application in his hand. He paused at the entrance to the Jackson Blueline, debating whether or not he should go straight home or take the application over to his parents' place. His mother was always much more patient with filling out forms than he was, but if he went over there he would probably have to abandon Jordan to dinner alone.

After standing in front of the turn-style long enough to annoy half a dozen people, he finally decided that he should go home and made his way down to the platform. It was probably best if he spent as much time as possible with Jordan before he left. Half an hour later, he was through the door and pleasantly surprised to find Jordan already home. "You're early. Not enough to keep you busy today?" he asked as he walked up and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend.

Jordan gave him a wide smile and kissed his lips. "I got everything done early so I could come home and be with you."

Smith grinned back and smoothed his hand down Jordan's khakis to mould them over his ass. "To be with me, hmm? You're a little over-dressed then, I think."

Jordan's response was a kiss and a not-so-subtle attempt at pulling Smith's long-sleeved t-shirt off. Smith helped him and soon they were travelling towards the bedroom, pulling clothing off as they went. "How was work? Was it a half-day or something?"

"No work. I went to the post office to get my passport application and got the photos taken for it. Cordelia sent the paperwork for the Visas I need, so I thought I should get everything started." There was a pause in Jordan's touching, barely noticeable, but Smith could feel his hesitation and knew that his lover had more of a problem with him leaving than he was letting on.

-----

Justin was putting together... something in the living room and Draco was hesitant to ask what exactly the large black box was. He leant against the doorframe, watching as Justin moved around and around the box, twisting and moving bits of it, and occasionally cursing it. Ten minutes into the activity, Draco finally decided to ask what he was doing, despite knowing that it was muggle and he probably wouldn't like it. "What precisely is that thing you're fiddling with and why do you keep cursing at it? Is that the only way it will work?"

Justin was so startled from hearing Draco's voice that he toppled over from his crouch and landed flat on his arse. "Jesus, Draco, you scared me half to death."

"Well, that's only because you're so intent on this... thing. Now are you going to tell me what it is and why it is in my living room or not?" he responded as he went over to give Justin a hand up, not quite being able to resist a grope as he did so.

Justin gave him a rueful grin and smacked his wandering hand away. "It's a telly, for watching programs and films and football. I've told you about them several times, but you never listened. I think you'll like it once I get it going, though. I'm just having a bit of trouble getting the magic to override the electrical system so that it can take over the power source. Your flat has a larger concentration of magic than mine did."

"It's muggle, isn't it? I thought you said you'd tell me before putting anything muggle in the house after you put in that dreadful shrieking mini-box in the kitchen."

Justin gave a long-suffering sigh and shook his head. "That's the telephone, silly. It doesn't shriek; it rings. And I told you that was for work and so you can call me when I'm at work. It's quicker than owling and much neater than the floo."

Draco ignored him and turned his eyes to the box. "It's a black box. I don't see the point."

Justin shook his head and crouched back down to continue fiddling with it. "I told you, I can't get the magic to work quite right."

"Maybe that's the magic telling you it doesn't want a muggle box thing in the flat."

"I don't think so. I just need to mess with it a bit more and it'll work. I know it will." Draco declined to comment further and went into the kitchen to make himself some tea.

Three days later, Draco was sitting on the couch, taking advantage of Justin being at work to read one of his mother's smutty veela romance novels when all of the sudden the big black box came to life and started yelling at him about something called "Tesco". He squealed (it was a dignified squeal) and scurried behind the couch in fright. The box stopped yelling and was replaced by several voices talking in conversation, with some awful instrumental music playing behind them. Draco cautiously peered over the top of the couch and saw that there were tiny people in the box, all looking very dramatic about something. Perhaps the fact that they were shrunk and stuck in the black, muggle box. Draco would certainly be distraught about something like that.

Not knowing what else to do, he got up and went to the small, white box attached to one of the kitchen cabinets. Justin had left instructions on how to use it to 'ring him', whatever that meant. Draco thought of the little people trapped in the box and decided to try it. After three tries, including two that involved foreign voices telling him he had pushed the wrong buttons, he finally heard Justin's voice.

"You have to come home right away. That box you put in the living room, it's moving and there are shrunken people inside and you said it was for entertainment, but I don't think it's particularly amusing to shrink people and trap them in a confining space. It doesn't look like they'll have enough air, and I don't want them to die because if they die, then the Ministry will blame it on me and I know they're just looking for a reason to send me to Azkaban even though it would be your fault! I can't believe you would do this to me! How could muggles think this sort of thing is amusing; it's terr—"

"Draco? Relax, love, calm down. Who's going to die?"

"The little people in the box!"

"What little people in what box? I don't know what you're talking about, pet. You'll have to slow down and explain it to me again."

Draco sighed and darted a glance into the living room to see that the little people had gone and now there was just a little dog. "They shrink dogs, too?! How horrible! Justin, you have to come home. This is cruelty and it isn't funny!"

"I understand that pet, but you have to tell me what's wrong. Who are these little people? Where are they?"

"In that big, black box you brought home the other day. I was reading on the couch when all of the sudden it came to life and it was yelling at me, but then it stopped yelling and these little people showed up and they all look very distressed to have been shrunk and trapped in the box. And now there's a dog that doesn't appear to realize he's been shrunken or imprisoned with very little air. You have to come home and fix this. Your magic obviously went wrong."

There was a pause, long enough for Draco to become rather impatient, and then, "Draco, are you talking about the telly?"

"I... Yes, I think that's what you called the demon box you brought into my home." Suddenly, there was a loud sound of laughter, Justin's laughter, and that only served to make Draco angrier. "This is serious! You've shrunk people and imprisoned them in a window box!"

There was more laughter, and then wheezing sounds as though Justin were trying to get back his breath. Finally, "Draco, there's nothing wrong with the telly. The people in it aren't really that small; it's like a two-dimensional pensive memory, remember? Those people were filmed beforehand and they're all perfectly normal, average-sized people. And none of them are trapped in our telly, I promise."

"I think you should come home anyway, just in case. What if you're wrong and you really accidently shrunk them? I don't want to go to Azkaban."

A sound of defeat could be heard in the round end with the one hole and then mumbled voices, one of which was Justin telling his co-workers about a 'minor incident with his muggle-ignorant pureblood boyfriend' and how he had to floo home to fix it before the boyfriend 'had a major meltdown'. Draco would have been highly insulted at the implications that he was so emotionally unstable, but at that moment the box began shouting again.

"Hurry!"

"I'll be there in a minute, love. Just relax, there's nothing to worry about." There was a click sound and then a loud buzzing that Draco did not like and so he dropped the feletoner and went to make himself tea, all the while eyeing the shouting box through the doorway to the kitchen. Justin popped in just as the kettle was whistling and went straight to the box and pushed at it once. The shrunken people and the shouting immediately stopped. Draco peeked in curiously, still a bit disconcerted by the whole thing, and was surprised to see that the box was once again completely black. "See, no harm done. There aren't tiny people in here, love, just moving, talking pictures. Remember the cinema I took you to last month? It's like that only the picture is smaller. Nothing to worry about. Don't touch it and it won't bother you, I promise." He gave Draco a reassuring smile, but Draco was not reassured and made it known by sidling up to his mate and insinuating himself in his arms.

"Why does it shout? It frightened me nearly to death with its shouting."

Justin tightened his arms around the blond and pulled him close, enjoying the nuzzling Draco was doing to his neck. "The volume was set a bit too high, that's all. It normally doesn't shout, I promise. Maybe tonight after we eat we can sit down and watch some. I'll introduce you to East Enders; I think you'll like it."

"Can we not and have sex instead? I think I've had rather enough of that box for one day. I'd much rather introduce myself to your cock." He gave a little wiggle for emphasis and Justin had to chuckle.

"I think you've already become well acquainted with all my anatomy, pet. But there's nothing to say we can't have sex _while_ we watch East Enders."

Draco's mouth turned up in a wicked grin and he tugged Justin's face closer. "I think we've got a deal," he growled and took Justin's mouth to seal it.

-----

Four men were settled at a back table of a small restaurant just off Al-fayasuf, the main Wizarding Street in Cairo, eating koshary out of large steel bowls while exchanging anecdotes about their families. There was a Quidditch match playing on the wireless and their conversation paused every so often to listen when the commentary became particularly heated. They were waiting until the announcement of the final score before beginning their real conversation, the exchange of information. Ron sucked a fried onion off his spoon and tried to pretend he wasn't listening as Bill told Seth the story of how Ron had become afraid of spiders. He hated that story; it always made him blush, but what could he do? Bill was his brother, his eldest brother, and Seth was laughing heartily at the image of a tiny Ron, just barely out of his toddler years, screaming for Mummy while his beloved teddy bear morphed into a giant spider.

Seth slammed a hand on the table as he laughed, rattling all their bowls and shaking the rickety table a bit, and Ron couldn't help but smile, too. He liked Seth, he knew already. He reminded Ron of Hagrid in some ways, loud and happy and bigger than life, though thankfully he seemed quite a bit smarter and less-inclined towards dangerous animals. It reminded him of home, made him a little homesick, and he was glad that Harry was staying the week. He was less lonely when Harry came to stay, even if Harry was wallowing in his own heartache at the moment.

"Shall I start?" Seth asked, once the game had finished and they were settled with a fresh round of food and drinks. The other three nodded affirmations and Seth smiled widely. "The first discovery we made was a funeral pot in Akheneton's tomb. One of our junior archeologists found a sealed pot smeared with a thick blue material that he assumed was paint. It appeared to have been dripped down the side of the pot before it was sealed. Had the material not covered the hieroglyphs depicting the pot's contents, which were strange to themselves, we would not have looked at it twice. As it was, the visible hieroglyphs indicated that the pot contained a ceremonial knife, a powerful one. We had the paint tested and found that is was not paint, but biological material. More tests showed a form of magical creature blood, but not one that we could identify or had ever seen before. We decided to open the pot, hoping to find more clues as to where the blood came from.

"It took three of our best curse breakers three weeks the break the seal, and what we found was indeed a knife. It contained more magical power than I ever have felt in an object. It... how do you say...? It was like the blood moving in your body. Do you know what I am trying to say?" He looked frustrated for the first time with the language barrier.

"Was it pulsing?" Bill prompted, voice strained in excited tension.

Seth grinned and nodded quickly. "Yes, pulsing is the word, thank you." He took a drink of water and continued. "The handle was made of animal bone, later testing showed a combination of sphynx and falcon. The blade was made of adamantine-coated diamond. It was--is--truly the most remarkable thing of crafting and magical manipulation I have ever seen."

"Where is it? How did you discover what it was used for?" prompted Raleigh. He looked as unable to contain his excitement as Bill did.

"It is currently under security in a vault under the museum. I may have able to get you permission to see it, but not today. Once we found the knife, we examined the burial chamber very thorough, and yet it took us seven weeks to find the message. It was hidden in plain sight, but it only appeared when one of our elves touched it."

Bill and Raleigh shared a look. "A house elf? Why a house elf?"

"I am not for sure, but we think there is a thing in the paint that only responds to those with some sort of magical creature connection, either those with the blood or their mates."

"But..." Bill paused, wide-eyed. "They've never shown up for me, at least not before someone else showed them to me. My wife is part veela and I... I was bitten by an unchanged werewolf. That's where my... scars came from." He indicated the hard, jagged lines that crossed and distorted his features. Ron turned his eyes away, stomach dropping out. Most of the time he forgot about the scars, accepting that they were a part of Bill now, but the thought of that night and of Greyback made him nauseous.

It appeared to have stopped Seth in his tracks as well, because he made several attempts at speech before finally saying, "Perhaps it is the werewolf blocking you out. We have noticed that only light creatures have had the ability to find the hieroglyphs."

Ron furrowed his brows, suddenly remembering something. "Hang on, I found the sign with Khaemwaset's name on it; I don't have any creature connections. Our family has never had any creature blood and I'm not mated to anyone."

Seth turned to him with a small smile and eyes twinkling the like of Dumbledore. "You do not know that. Your mate has not found you yet, perhaps. The magic is strong and very old. It can sense more than you know. "

Ron didn't say anything. There was nothing he _could _say. If he was somehow mated to someone, he hadn't met that someone yet, so he wouldn't worry about it. Seth flashed him one more smile before returning to business.

"As I was saying before, it took seven weeks and a house elf, but we found the hieroglyph, the one I have shown Ronald here." He took a galleon-sized file folder out of his breast pocket, enlarged it, and pulled out two glossy photographs. It was familiar, though Ron had not had time to examine it before and find the differences. Now they stood out like flashing lights; all those in line for worship were no longer calmly standing by as their god was murdered. Their faces were all contorted in horror, gifts dropping to the ground, some shattered. Ramses II, Nefertari, and their son stood in front, looking ready to attack.

It was several minutes before anyone spoke. The pictures had been passed from person to person, stared at in astonishment, and then stared at some more. "They..." Bill started, but had to look at them again before he could finish the sentence. "I've never seen anything like this. Have they ever moved to attack him?"

"Not that we have seen. Do your findings not look like this?"

"No, they don't show any emotion on ours. And the pharoah who owns the tomb is always in front of the line." Bill pulled his own file out and showed Seth their photos Raleigh had taken. Seth examined them slowly, nodding occasionally as though they were confirming something for him

"I am seeing a reason, possibly. Khaemwaset and Nefertari put up the engravings to show us the way."

"The way to what?" Raleigh asked, clearly confused, eyes still focused on the photographs.

"The way to the tomb of Re."

"You think there really was a tomb, then, and a body?" Bill asked, leaning closer over the table in enthusiasm.

"All our research has indicated that Nefertari had an elaborate tomb built as his final resting place. We also believe that the blood we found on the sacrificial knife is that of Re. It would explain why we have not been able to identify the source as of yet."

"But if it's Re's blood, wouldn't it be wizarding?" Ron asked, finally feeling like he was catching up on the conversation.

"That would mean that he was human, and we do not believe that he, or any of the other gods, was."

"What do you think they were, then?"

"Extremely powerful magical creatures."

Another hush fell over the table. They had never thought that the gods could be a separate species. With the assumption that all the pharaohs were lower gods themselves such an important part of Egyptian lore, they had always thought the gods were magically powerful wizards. It made sense, though, that they would be a different species. The pharaohs were probably part-magical creature, like Hagrid or Flitwick. Or Malfoy, if Harry was to be believed. Malfoy. Ron wondered what sort of trouble he was getting into. He knew that Harry was having lunch with the prat the next day. Maybe he would go, just to see what the twat looked like now that he was in full veela mode.

His thoughts meandered down that line of thinking for so long that by the time he was returned to the present, the others were deeply ensconced in a debate about the relative merits of their separate theories. The new thread of the conversation went so far over Ron's head that he could only sit back, drink his tea, and try to understand as much of what they were saying as he could. By the time it began to grow dark, all he knew for sure was that they were looking for the tomb of an unknown new magical species and he had been officially hired as Seth's assistant.

-----

Potter,

I would like to take you to lunch and discuss a matter of grave importance. What is the earliest date you might be able to meet with me?

Draco Malfoy

-----

The note from Draco had surprised Harry, but it didn't stop him from coming to lunch. He couldn't fathom what Draco could possibly want to ask him that would be important enough to warrant lunch. Though Harry was beginning to rather like Draco, unannounced snogging assaults aside, he was under the impression that Draco did not feel the same. Still, it was a free lunch and something to take his mind off his misery. He just hoped Draco didn't bring up Regina.

He entered the small bistro Draco had directed him to, bypassing the host with a nod and walking directly to the blond's table. His white-blond hair was like a beacon in the dim, darkly furnished restaurant. Draco beamed up at him and Harry was instantly suspicious. "Harry, good to see you. How have you been?"

"I've been better, but I'm all right, you? I can see this isn't just a social visit."

Draco gave him a coy smile and handed him a menu. "What makes you say that?"

"You're never this happy to see me. In fact, I'm fairly certain that you barely tolerate my presence most of the time."

Draco's face fell, but only a little. "All right, Potter, you've caught me. I do indeed have a favor to ask. However, I would prefer to ply you with food before I ask, so why don't we order?"

Harry acquiesced, going over all the possible requests Draco could make of him, from taking care of an Apparition ticket to assassinating the new Minister. Nothing stood out as a real possibility. They ordered and sat in silence until Harry's pint came. Draco watched avidly as he took several pulls from it. He apparently had been serious about waiting and it had Harry's curiosity peeked.

"Before I ask you what I've brought you to lunch to ask, you should know that this request comes from my mother. I support her decision and understand why she asks this of you, but I did not put the thought in her head, so please don't be angry that I've asked."

"What could your mother possibly want that she couldn't have asked me for herself in an owl?" Harry's curiosity grew by leaps and bounds.

Draco took a deep breath and an even deeper drink of his wine before speaking. "Mother would like to know if it would be possible, with certain restrictions, for Severus's sentence to be commuted to house arrest, to be served at Malfoy Manor under our supervision." Harry opened his mouth to immediately reject the idea, but one look from Draco had his jaw snapping shut again. "Let me finish, please. She understands that this would be quite a concession on the part of the Ministry, to permit a convicted murderer's release to the home of a late Death Eater, but she has conditions that she thinks might persuade you. He would not be allowed access to his wand until after his release. He would be under twenty-four-hour surveillance by either one of us or one of our house elves. And as penance for his crimes, he would be required to brew potions for St. Mungo's, Hogwarts, and the Ministry. We have the facilities for him to do this and are willing to provide some of the ingredients as a donation." Harry was unable to respond, struck dumb by the suggestion. Draco took the opportunity to further highlight the benefits of the idea. "It really makes quite a bit of sense if you think about it. Severus is just wasting away up there with those Dementors. It's only a matter of time before he goes as mad as all the rest of them and do we really want to throw away such a brilliant mind? We both know that he's the best Potions Master this side of the Channel. This way, he would be able to help our community and still finish out his sentence."

"Why would you want to do this?" he asked finally, staring at Draco as though he were an unknown entity. He certainly had not been expecting what had come out of the blond's mouth.

"He saved my life, both of our lives, on dozens of occasions. We care deeply for him. And..." There he hesitated and Harry was about to object again, sensing that Draco was keeping pertinent information from him, when the waitress arrived with their meals. They spent a quiet few minutes tucking in before either was ready to speak again, and it was Draco who finally continued the conversation, speaking up before Harry could voice his objection. "You have seen the state that my mother is in. She is dwindling away to nothing without her mate. Until now, I have been able to distract her from her despair at the loss of my father, but I have found my own mate now. As much as I would like to spend all my time with her and keep her occupied indefinitely, my life centers around him. I cannot be the center of her world in the way she needs to someone to be. If she were to have a project of her own to watch over, someone she cares deeply for and who depends on her, she might be able to get better. It is proven that widowed veela who are the primary caregiver to children or invalids are able to keep their depressions at bay. I want this for my mother very much."

Harry blanched. He had seen the pallor and gauntness of Narcissa when he accompanied her visit to Snape's cell, but he had not realized that the situation was as dire as Draco was saying that it was. He wanted to help Narcissa. Something inside him seemed to resonate with her, though he couldn't put a finger on exactly what. And he hated the thought of someone wasting away into death when there was something he could do about it. Still, the thought of Snape essentially a free man, when he had killed Dumbledore in cold blood the way he had, made Harry feel sick. "I don't know if I would feel comfortable letting him out of Azkaban. I'm sorry, I really want to help your mother, I do, but I just don't think I would sleep well knowing that he could be incapacitating your mother and going free at any moment."

All the hope and pleasure melted from Draco's expression. There was a split moment where Harry wanted to do anything to take back what he said, just so that it would make Draco smile again, but then he was able to shake off the veelan influence and come back to his senses. "I'm sorry, Draco. I would be more than happy to visit your mother myself, if it would help her. I enjoyed speaking to her when I escorted her to see Snape at the prison."

Draco nodded despondently and took a large swig of his wine. "It might help. I was really hoping to convince you about Severus, though. Are you certain that you could not allow it? We would have house elves on guard twenty-four hours a day and we could erect wards around him so that he could not harm those around him."

"No, I just can't. Again, I'm really sorry. I trust you and your mother to be able to watch him, but I don't trust him. And I... I don't think house arrest would be a punishment for him, especially if it is at your beautiful home. He killed his own mentor in cold blood. He deserves to be exactly where he is."

"He was ordered to kill..."

"I don't want to talk about it." Harry gave him an immovable look. Draco appeared to ignore it, but Harry changed the subject before he could continue his protests. "Who is your mate? You never said."  
A glow crept over Draco's expression and he immediately went into a long, colorful explanation of Justin Finch-Fletchly and how they had come together. The subject change had clearly been well-chosen, as Draco spent the rest of the meal talking about Justin. Draco left on relatively amiable terms (or as amiable as was possible for them given their history). Harry took a few more moments to finish his drink and to think once Draco had gone. The discussion had taken more from him than he had expected and he needed a moment to settle his thoughts.

It was in that moment that Ron arrived, looking around in search of someone. "Where's the ferret?" he asked, taking Draco's seat and downing the last dregs of his wine. Harry stared at him, momentarily confused as to why he was there.

"He left already. What are you doing here? Don't you have work?"

"Nah, don't start until Monday. Thought I'd drop in and see what Malfoy looks like now that he's all veela-like. He's left already? Bugger."

"Why would you care what Draco looks like now? He's still Draco, veela or not. You weren't thinking of chatting him up, were you? Because he told me he's in a relationship with Justin Finch-Fletchly."

Ron wrinkled his nose as if Harry had just offered him vomit-flavored ice cream. "God no, just thought I'd see what he was like now. Never mind, though, if he's gone. Fancy a drink?"

A drink sounded like a brilliant idea, and soon they were downing pints of Butterbeer and the discussion was off on other topics.

-----

Smith was nervous and, oddly, feeling slightly hung-over despite having rejected offers of alcohol during the flight. Granted the turbulence at around hour three had nearly driven him to drink, but he had managed to abstain so as not to look like a drunken fool when first meeting his new employer. Now, walking towards baggage claim to meet Cordelia, he was starting to think a drink or three might not have mattered. He was exhausted, grungy, a little grumpy, and terribly frustrated with the British muggle customs officer who had been rather rude and unfriendly.

All that went away though when he spotted a familiar blond head amongst the crowd. Draco had not told him that he was planning on accompanying the Graveses to pick him up at the airport, and yet there he was, talking to Cordelia, he assumed. The woman had short maroon hair and looked very much the wife of a rock star. The girls were not so recognizable, but they stood out in their own way; they were both stunningly beautiful. Their hair was a matching blue-black that he had never seen before and their eyes were a striking pale blue that they shared with their mother.

Taking a deep breath, he started towards them and was met by a beaming, heart-stopping smile from Draco, as well as three pleasant smiles from the ladies.

"Smith, you have no idea how happy I am to see you! How are you, love? Come, meet Cordelia and her two stunning daughters." Draco rushed up to meet him in a hug before ushering him over to the Graves women. "Cordelia, ladies, this is my good friend Smith Michael. Smith, meet Cordelia, Beatrice, and Raya Graves." Smith shook hands, though little Raya was momentarily shy and tried to hide behind her mother.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all. I'm excited to hear you two play." He grinned at the two little girls who both blushed.

Draco chuckled at his side. "I forgot to tell you he's a charmer, Cordelia. Your lovely daughters may end up with inflated egos, not that they won't be deserved. Shall we go and find your bags? I wanted to bring an elf to assist us, but Justin assured me that that would not be allowed."

Smith resisted rolling his eyes. "I'm sure we can manage. I only have the two and they came with permanent feather-light charms."

They retrieved the bags after much more fussing by Draco and equal amounts of giggling from the girls. Soon they were heading for the hidden Floo, located in a forgotten Out-of-Order toilet. Cordelia filled Smith in with the details of the girls' progress on their instruments, with occasional helpful interjections from the girls about favorite songs and exactly why Beatrice had no interest in playing the trumpetalia ("There are too many places to blow into!"). Soon they were standing in the foyer of Graves Manor and Smith was unable to contain his gasp. This was… beyond anything he had ever seen outside a museum. Opulence didn't even begin to describe it. He could never imagine living somewhere like this by choice; he would be too afraid to touch anything. He only hoped the carriage house he was to live in was much more subdued.

"You have a beautiful home, Cordelia," he said to cover his gasp.

She grinned at him. "That's very kind of you to say. Most of it is Melton's mother's decorating. I would never have chosen so many antiques myself."

"Mummy's waiting for the old bat to die so she can re-decorate," Beatrice piped in with a conspiratorial wink. Cordelia looked horrified and Smith had to resist a laugh.

"Beatrice Elaine! Never say such things about your grandmother. Just because you hear Mummy say it, that doesn't mean you should repeat it, dear."

"Yes, Mummy." The six-year-old didn't look at all admonished. "May we show him the music room now?"

"Later, darling. He's had a long flight and I imagine he could use a bath and a bit of time to settle in." She turned to him for approval and he nodded gratefully.

"That would be wonderful, thank you."

"Right, we'll show you to the carriage house and leave you to it, then." After a trek through the house (and more ostentatious decorating) and nearly half a mile of garden, they were in front of a building about the size of a two-story two-door garage, decorated on the outside in a much more understated version of the main house. "Here we are. Your quarters are on the right side. The left is occupied by the girls' governess, Daria Coletrane. She's a lovely woman, but mostly keeps to herself when she isn't working with the girls. She's away for the week, but she will be back on Sunday morning and you can meet her then. For now, here's your key. A house elf will come when you're ready to eat. Come up to the house for lunch tomorrow and we can discuss the girls' lessons. Melton should be home by then and I know he wants to meet you. Are there any questions?"

"No, no questions. Thank you again for giving me this opportunity. I know you won't regret it."

She gave him a warm smile and patted his shoulder. "Of course not, darling. Melton says you're wonderful and Melton is never wrong. I'll see you at lunch tomorrow." She handed Smith the key and waved a friendly goodbye before leaving them alone in front of the house. Smith looked down at the key in his hand, then up at Draco, suddenly nervous. This was it. This was to be his new home for at least a year. Draco gave him an encouraging smile and suddenly he wasn't so worried anymore. He unlocked the door and went in.

**-----**

**Form:** 83352739  
**Name: **Draco Malfoy  
**Registry Number: **625369  
**Date: **November 12, 2003  
**Age: **23  
**Mate: ** Justin Finch-Fletchly  
**Current Location: ** London, England  
**Number of Sexual Encounter(s): ** 23  
**Name(s) of Partner(s): ** Justin Finch-Fletchly 19(M)  
**Age(s) of Partner(s): ** 23  
**Species of Partner(s): ** wizard  
**Description of Sexual Encounter(s): ** None of your business  
**Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s)?: ** Yes  
**If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects?: ** The usual.  
**Did any encounter result in pregnancy?: **  
**Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate?: ** Yes  
**If so, how and why?: ** I tried to influence Harry Potter, but it was not very affective. Damn him.  
**Comments: ** Two more weeks and still no new forms. Are you waiting until we have formally mated? If not, you are becoming a nuisance.


	14. Chapter 14

**Title:** Department of Magical Creatures Case #645369

**Author:** feltonxmalfoy

**Beta:** wwmrsweasleydo

**Pairing:** DM/RW (eventually), DM/EM, DM/SF, DM/TH, DM/JFF, DM/multipleOMC's, RW/2OMC's, HG/OMC, BW/FD

**Chapter:** Fourteen

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** slash, swearing, sexual acts

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** At 21, Draco Malfoy is on a journey to find his life mate, but is delayed by pesky Hufflepuffs screaming 'regulations' and 'laws'. Please, Malfoys play by their own rules.

**A/N: **For all those who have been so sweet as to comment on this story, thank you so much. Your patience is appreciated. And hopefully no longer necessary. Chapter 15 is already nearly finished, and I don't anticipate it taking more than a week to be posted. Someone apparently slipped my muse some E because she has been working overtime this past week. I'm hoping she continues to work well. If she does, this story should be finished by Christmas. Yay!

* * *

Harry was minding his own business, working steadily through the pile of reports left for him during his month suspension, when a thick, pink binder was unceremoniously thrust onto his desk. He stared at it for a moment before looking up at its owner, Hermione. "What's that?"

"Potential partners. I've signed you up with a post-owl matchmaking service." She plopped down in one of his guest chairs without waiting for an invitation. "I know you've been having a hard time getting over that woman, and I thought this might be a nice way to get back out there. The service is completely anonymous, so you'll be able to meet women who are interested in your personality, and not just your fame. What do you think?"

"A matchmaking service?" Harry looked warily down at the file. It was covered in little hearts and looked like something Lavender Brown would have created. Hermione sat and watched him patiently, allowing him time to process the concept before she began to push. He appreciated the gesture and took a moment to lift the cover and take a peek at the first few pages. The book was full of profiles of women. They did not include pictures, a fact of which Harry both approved and felt wary. What if these women chose a service that didn't require photos because they were hideous? He tried to accept people for who they were generally, and not what they looked like, but when it came to relationships, physical attraction was very important.

When he reached the tenth page, the vein of his thoughts finally hit him and he paused. Was he seriously considering this as an option? He trusted Hermione with his life, but was this really a good idea? "Hermione, I don't know if I'm comfortable using a service to find someone to go out with."

Hermione frowned, but looked determined. Harry's lecture-senses kicked in and he prepared himself for a diatribe. "I know your first instinct as someone who was raised by Muggles is to automatically reject the idea. Believe me, when Nigel suggested it, I wouldn't even consider the idea. But then I did a little research, and it turns out that matchmaking services are incredibly common in our world. Originally, matchmakers were used by pure-blood families looking for eligible pure-bloods for their children. Since our community is so small and there isn't a great deal of mixing between British wizards and those from the Continent, it was nearly the only way the two communities could intermingle. Even though movement between our communities is a great deal more common now, matchmaking is still considered one of the best ways to find a spouse."

Harry gave her a look and she sighed in exasperation. "Don't give me that look. I know you'd like to deny it, but I also know you better than you know yourself, and I know that all you want is to settle down, get married, and start a family. Unless you would like to leave things up to fate, this is your best shot at doing so without having to marry some rabid fan." Harry was still skeptical. "Just give it a chance, please, for me?"

Harry made the mistake of meeting her eyes and the look of sincerity in them convinced him that he couldn't say no. Not that he was ever very good at resisting Hermione's suggestions even without eye contact. "All right, I'll take a look through it."

Hermione grinned. "Excellent, that's a good deal more than I would have expected from you. I know you don't like me meddling, but I don't like to see you unhappy."

"I know you don't. What do I do if I find someone who I think is interesting?"

"It's simple. You write her an owl letting her know you're interested and post it to the box number there." She pointed to a ten-digit number at the top-right corner of the entry he had stopped on. "Make sure to sign it with the post number on the card attached to the front cover. If she is interested in you as well, she will send you an owl back. The owls are sent to a sorting house, and then automatically forwarded to you. That way you don't have to do any extra work, but the people you correspond with never find out who you are or where you live if you don't explicitly tell them. It's really very fascinating…"

Harry could sense a lecture coming on the functions of the sorting house and held a hand up. "I'm sure it's all very interesting, but I do have a lot of work to finish. I'll look through the binder and see if anyone strikes my fancy."

She looked only a smidgen miffed that he had prevented her lecture, but her disappointment was quickly swallowed up in excitement. "I'm so happy you're really going to give this a try. I have to tell you, I've been very worried about you lately. Why don't you come over for dinner on Saturday night and you can tell me how things are going?"

"That sounds great. I'll be 'round about half-six. How's that?"

"Wonderful. I'll see you later, then." She stood and rounded his desk to give him a kiss on the cheek and a half hug, but before she could pull away, he stood and hugged her fully. He buried his nose in her hair and held her close. "Oh, Harry, I've missed you. You know I love you, right?" she whispered into his ear, resting her head on his shoulder. She always knew when he needed an extra bit of comfort without him having to say anything.

He smiled to himself and kissed her hair. "I know, 'Mione. I love you, too." They pulled away slowly. It was times like this when he remembered how much her friendship really meant to him. She kissed his cheek again and secured one more promise from him to look through the binder before slipping out the door to return to whatever mysterious part of the Department of Mysteries she worked in all day.

Harry plopped back down and took another cursory look at the binder before going back to work. He promised himself that he would make a closer examination that night.

It had been several weeks since the television incident, and Draco was slowly warming to the entertainment value it held. Justin had introduced him to films and he found the novelty of watching Muggles interacting in their world quite amusing, now that he understood the concept of television better. It was a Saturday night, and Justin had suggested they stay in and watch a film. Draco had agreed, mostly because he knew a sofa shag was on offer, and he enjoyed watching his own glorious, naked form bouncing on Justin's lap through the mirror above the fireplace. Justin knew he liked it and indulged him whenever possible.

At the moment, Justin was in the kitchen fixing their dinner, while Draco chose the film from the holding case Justin had installed next to the television. Personally, Draco wasn't in love with the look of the case, but he found there was a great deal he could tolerate when it meant pleasing his mate. He had looked through half the shelves when he came across a curious image of a little man in a black bowler hat and what looked unmistakably like Wizarding robes. Excited at the possibility that the actor might actually _be_ a Wizard, he immediately pulled the little plastic case off the shelf and popped it open. He was momentarily distracted by the shiny reflection of the little disc inside, but managed to push the button on the film player that caused the disc shelf to appear. He placed the disc on the shelf exactly how Justin had showed him, careful not to touch the reflection. Justin had been very clear that he oughtn't touch the reflecting side of the disc, something about finger smudges making the discs not work. The very idea that his fingers would be dirty enough to smudge anything was an insult, but again, he tolerated much in the name of pleasing his mate. He pushed the little button and the shelf disappeared again. He pushed the little arrow button like Justin had showed him, and a moment later, the television flashed and a scene flashed. Draco nearly dropped the film case in shock at what he saw. Though the scenes flashed quickly, they were all of very naked, very well-endowed men in various positions of fornication. The music was loud and the noises over the music were lewd, and Draco's breath caught at the sight.

So entranced was he at the sight on the screen that he missed the loud crash as Justin dropped their dinner plates on the counter and sped into the room. "What the…?" Justin exclaimed before turning a violent red.

"Is this a… common film for Muggles to watch?" Draco asked, too fascinated to take his eyes from the screen long enough to look at his lover.

"No. It's… um… Bloody hell, this is embarrassing. That's a porno film. Never meant for you to see it. How did you…?" His eyes fell on the DVD case and his stomach dropped. The history DVD, the false case he had to hide his porno films. What would have possessed Draco to want to watch such a boring documentary?

"What is a… 'porno' film?"

"It's people having sex, graphic sex. It's for masturbating."

Draco's eyes finally left the screen and focused on Justin's still blushing face. "You've masturbated while watching this? It turns you on?"

"Yeah, before I was with you it did. Gets sort of lonely on your own, yeah?"

"I suppose." A look of mischief lit his eyes. "Would you want to show me how you did this?"

"Did what?" Justin asked, voice cracking. He suddenly felt very nervous.

"Masturbated. Before me."

"I…" He was about to protest, but the look Draco pinned him with combined with a wave of pheromones and he completely forgot how to argue.

They never touched dinner.

Harry was nervous. This was a first for him, a few firsts really. A first proper date, a first time agreeing to meet a complete stranger on a social occasion, a first time using a matchmaking service, the list continued from there. When he'd spoken to Hermione and Nigel about it over dinner, the idea had seemed so sensible. Communicating through post without using names meant that the women he corresponded with weren't judging him by his notoriety, but by who he was as a person. Lenora, the woman he was currently waiting to meet, had seemed incredibly pleasant through post. She was smart and witty, demonstrated that her morals and ethics aligned with his, and they even shared a mutual interest in travel. From the post they'd exchanged, he was excited to meet her and hoped that she would be everything he was looking for.

But now that the time for meeting had actually come and he was waiting on a bench in a crowded restaurant with the hostess staring at him like she was a hungry vampire and he'd just opened a vein in front of her, he was starting to have second thoughts. What if she wasn't attractive? What if she thought he dressed like a hapless idiot and told him so to his face? What were they going to talk about? Suddenly the idea of an awkward hour-long meal filled with nothing but stilted sentences and uncomfortable silences flashed in his mind, and the jolt of insane nerves nearly had him up and walking out of the restaurant before he ever met her.

He was just to the point of actually standing when fate stepped in in the form of a tall, blond, very pretty woman who walked through the front doors, did one sweep of the lobby with her eyes, and narrowed in on him. There was a pause while the look of recognition registered on her face, in which time he managed to get a very good look at her. She was taller than him (a fact he tried not to feel self-conscious about), wore a sleek blue dress that perfectly matched her eyes, had curled her hair into big ringlets that Harry found himself fantasizing about twirling his fingers through, and had a close reign on her facial expressions that reminded him oddly of Malfoy. He shook the thought from his brain and smiled at her, hoping that he didn't look crazy or ridiculous. A small voice in the back of his head told him that he failed. He took the first step towards her, suddenly feeling a little braver than he had been the minute before, and held a hand out to shake hers. "You're Lenora, aren't you?"

She returned his smile and shook his hand, her handshake light and her skin soft as a peach. "I am. And of course, you're Harry. I have to confess, when I saw in your last owl that your name was Harry, I didn't expect you'd be _the_ Harry."

Harry tried not to blush, but again a voice in the back of his head told him that he failed. "I don't know about being _the_ anything. I'm just a Harry, really. Do you want to sit down?" That same voice whispered that she might have misgivings about starting anything with someone as well-known as he was, but he tried to squelch them with a not-as-confident-as-he-would-have-liked smile.

"Yes, that'd be nice." She again returned his smile, this time with a little more warmth, and he took her elbow to direct her to the podium where the not-vampire hostess was still staring at him with hunger.

"Hi, we have a reservation for two under—"

"Potter, of course, Mr. Potter. Right this way. We've prepared the best table for you." Her smile nearly split her face, and Harry wondered if it was painful, but before he could really contemplate the thought, the smile diminished to barely a sneer as the pretty young hostess turned her eyes to his date. Thankfully, she quickly turned and directed them to a booth set in a nook in the back of the restaurant. It was at a distance from the other tables, so they would have privacy from the other patrons. This was a blessing, as whether the night went well or terribly, they would be shielded from prying ears happy to go to the Prophet. That was all Harry ever asked for, really.

They were seated, given menus as tall as toddlers, and left to themselves only long enough to exchange an awkward smile before the waiter was over and getting their drink requests in. Another minute later and they were finally left to themselves. Harry looked over at her and smiled, feeling suddenly shy. "Do you want to—"

"Have you ever—"

They had started speaking at the same time and laughed at the acknowledged uncomfortable air. "Sorry, what were you saying?" Harry asked, deferring to her.

"I was just going to ask if you wanted to have the calamari for appetizer. What were you going to say?"

"Uh, nothing important. Calamari sounds great. I don't think I've ever had it before."

"No? You're in for a treat. It's delicious here."

"You've been here before, then?" he asked, surprised. He didn't know why he should be, though. It was a popular restaurant. There was no reason she shouldn't have come here before; she didn't live the workaholic life that he did.

"Yes, I have lunch here with my mother and sister almost once a week. I take it you've never been?"

"Uh, no. Not much time for social dining in an Auror's schedule."

"No? I guess I never thought about the hours an Auror might work. You work a lot, then?" Something in her voice told him they might have already hit a snag, but Harry tried not to worry about it.

"Yeah, most of the time. Right now I'm on desk duty, so the hours are regular, but when I'm in the field, sometimes I have to be gone on a case for days or weeks. Is that going to be a problem?"

Lenora considered him from behind her menu for a moment before shaking her blond curls at him. He couldn't help but watch them bounce and momentarily got distracted by them again. He focused on her face again when she began to speak. "If you're on desk duty right now, then it won't be a problem, right?"

"For now, no."

"Then, let's not worry about it." She gave him a dazzling smile and turned back to her menu. He watched her hair bounce again before looking at his own.

After that they had a pleasant evening. The conversation flowed easily and they got along rather well. She even let him kiss her good night, a brief press of lips on lips in front of the restaurant that left his mouth tasting like cherry lip gloss. He went to bed a little bit happier than he had been when he'd woken up that morning.

Unfortunately for Harry, like much in his life, his relationship with Lenora went downhill fast. They spent a pleasant few weeks together, taking long walks in Hyde Park, eating out nearly every night together. Harry had even had her over for dinner one night at his flat, where, with the help of Molly's copied recipe book, he made her the best Yorkshire Pudding he'd ever managed in his life.

It was the next morning, as he was making her breakfast and she was wandering the flat in one of his t-shirts and nothing else, when the trouble hit. "Who's this, Harry?" she asked, bringing a framed photograph to him from the living room.

He glanced at it and smiled fondly. "That's Remus. He's sort of my honorary godfather."

"Remus Lupin, the werewolf?" Something in her voice made him pause in turning the bacon to look at her.

"Yeah. He was one of my dad's best mates."

She frowned and gave the photo a disgusted look. "Why would you choose to associate yourself with such a dangerous creature?"

Harry's hackles went up and he put down the cooking tongs to face her fully. "Remus isn't dangerous. He takes his Wolfsbane every month. He's never hurt anyone because of his lychanthropy."

"But he has hurt people?"

"Of course he has; he's even killed people. But so have I, and so has everyone who fought in the war. It's kind of unavoidable when it's kill or be killed. Do you have something against werewolves?"

"Of course I do! They're dangerous creatures! I refuse to believe that any silly potion can change their nature. They still turn into giant wolves capable of ripping a person's throat out, don't they?"

"Yes, but the potion gives them their humanity back during the change. They aren't any more dangerous under Wolfsbane than they would be as humans."

She scoffed at him, actually scoffed. "You can't be serious. They're filthy _animals_."

Defensive anger bubbled up inside him and exploded in an outburst that was louder than it necessarily should have been. "Right. That's it. OUT. Now. I thought you were a kind person with the same morals as I have, but it's very clear to me now that you're just as racist and bigoted as any Voldemort supporter. I'm very sorry, but this isn't going to work. You can get your things and leave now, thank you."

Her mouth hung open for a full minute before she got just as angry as he was and shouted back. Personal insults weren't far behind, and the situation was very ugly before she finally left in a huff. Still too worked up to calm down, he threw the sauce pan that held his burnt beans across the kitchen and decided to go for a run. He was halfway down the hall outside his flat before he realized he was barefoot and still dressed only in his boxers.

Ron was becoming a regular fixture on his brother's sofa. This was his third night in a row eating dinner with them. Neither of them complained, though. Fleur was huffy, but Ron got the sense her mood had nothing to do with him. While he and Bill washed dishes, he asked his brother what the problem was. Normally, he wouldn't meddle in other people's affairs, but whenever Fleur was upset, she affected the moods of everyone around her. Ron thought it might be a veela thing, or maybe a pregnancy thing, but he didn't overanalyze it.

"She's just upset because I won't move back to England," Bill explained.

Alarm bells went off in Ron's head. He didn't fancy the idea of being alone in Egypt without any of his family near. "Why does she want you to move back to England? What's wrong with Egypt?"

"She doesn't want to raise the baby 'on non-European soil'—her words. I don't see what the big deal is; the little guy isn't even going to understand where he lives until he's old enough to talk anyway. I think it'll be good for him to grow up hearing other languages. He's already going to be bi-lingual. Why not tri-lingual?"

"So, you said no then?"

"Yeah, and she's not happy about it, obviously. She's even got Mum on her side. I've been getting howlers every morning for the last week. 'You should think of your family before your job, Bill. You aren't being very responsible, working in such a dangerous environment when you're about to be a father. You should think about Fleur's feelings,'" he imitated their mother's voice perfectly. Ron had to laugh at the impression. "It's all a bunch of rubbish. Mum's never liked me working in Egypt. She doesn't care about Fleur's feelings any more than she ever has, but that's not stopping both of them harping on me. It's a bit exhausting, really."

"It would be less exhausting if you were to just give in," Fleur piped in, waltzing in with a serving tray and a displeased look. Ron marveled at her for a minute. Even six months pregnant, she showed little sign except a round, extended belly.

"We're not moving back to England. Ron just got a new job, and I don't want to abandon our search before I've seen it through. I can't just walk away from all that work. You know I can't."

"No, but you can let your child be born in a dirty country full of smelly, dangerous men. Yes, I can see the logic there."

"We're in no more danger here than we would be in England, and you know that. We don't see any of the fighting, do we? Have you ever seen a bomb go off? That's a Muggle problem, not a wizarding one."

Fleur turned her nose up at him and looked to Ron for support. He managed to stay on Bill's side, but it was a near thing. Sometimes those looks still entranced him. "I'd like you to stay here, actually. If you move back to England, I'll be here all by myself. And Bill's right, we've worked really hard on the Ra thing. It wouldn't be right if he had to abandon the project half-way through."

Fleur huffed at him as well and flounced out of the room. "Sometimes, I want to kill that woman," Bill muttered.

"When you don't want to rip her clothes off?" Ron nudged him with a little smirk.

Bill sighed the sigh of the sorely taxed. "Sometimes even when I do."

Harry was beginning to wonder if he should just give his love life up as a bad job and go the celibacy route because nothing was working out. He had gone out with three other women, and one man claiming to be a woman, and none of them had worked out. Thankfully, none of them had ended as disastrously as things had with Lenora, unless you counted the very unpleasant scene during which Harry found out that the woman he had been snogging for twenty minutes turned out to have all the same equipment he did. That had been embarrassing to say the least.

Now it was near Christmas and he was going to the annual Ministry holiday party without a date. Again. Resigned to his fate, he Apparated to Hermione and Nigel's so that they could all go together. Hermione gave his attire an approving look, but her expression turned pitying when she reached his face. "I'm really sorry the matchmaking service didn't work out, Harry."

"Not a big deal, Hermione. This is how my life goes. Everything ends in disaster."

"Oh, Harry, that isn't true. You've just had a string of bad luck lately. Things will get better. You just have to keep trying."

"Yeah, I know. Can we just go? Where's Nigel?"

Nigel picked that moment to pop in from the bedroom, fiddling with his bowtie. Hermione shot a spell at him that did the tying for him. "Thank you, darling, but I had wanted to do it myself. Hello, Harry. Heard you've had a string of back luck lately. Sorry about that. Ready to go?" he said, walking over to join them. His tie was quite neat, but it looked near choking him. Harry saw him loosen it a little while Hermione wasn't looking.

"Ready to get this over with, yes."

"Oh, Harry, you used to love holiday parties. I don't know why you're so against them now," Hermione scolded as they moved to the Floo and the powder was handed out.

"You try having three dozen very drunk, very unattractive people proposition you in a night and see how much fun you have."

"You could always have a bit of fun with it, play around with them, eh?" Nigel nudged him with a wink that made Harry snort.

"Nigel!" Hermione snapped, scandalized. Thankfully, she went through the Floo before they could hear the rest of her diatribe, and it was over by the time Harry made it to the Ministry. The lobby was lined with more trees than the Hogwarts Great Hall and garland was draped over anything that wasn't moving (and some things that were). It became immediately obvious that the Department of Magical Games and Sports had started drinking early. Everett Lancaster was doing a wobbly waltz with his secretary around the fountain while his underlings cheered them on. This wouldn't have been strange, except that the Flying Dutchman, a Caribbean band from Jamaica, were playing over the loudspeakers. One look at the scene, and Harry went in search of the bar.

Two hours later, he had somehow found himself on the third floor, sitting with his back against someone's cubicle, playing a game of truth or dare with a few of the Magical Creatures Department workers and, strangely enough, Percy Weasley. He downed another Fire Whiskey and tried not to think too hard about what was happening. It wasn't as though anyone would be remembering this scene come morning anyway. He had only been half-paying attention—that was until a giggly young woman fell into his lap and started snogging him. Taken aback, he didn't immediately turn her away, especially when she turned out to be a rather brilliant kisser. He pulled away after a minute to get a good look at her and was surprised to find himself holding little Emma Wilder. "Emma, what are you doing?"

She giggled and fluffed his hair. There were no signs of her moving off his lap any time soon. "I chose dare, silly. Michael dared me to snog you. Didn't you like it?"

He was momentarily distracted by the flash of her long, thick eyelashes as she batted her eyes at him. There was no denying his enjoyment, so he didn't. "I liked it a lot, just wasn't expecting to be snogged out of the blue like that."

"Well, get used to it because I liked it, too." Harry blinked at her. She was a lot more assertive when she was sloshed. Interesting.

She was still at his side at midnight, and they were dancing in the mess hall amongst a mass of Ministry workers and their loved ones. He had her wrapped in his arms and they were gently swaying to Celestina Warbeck. He found that he really liked the way her little body fit so well with his as they danced, and he was just thinking of asking her to come home with him when he spotted Justin Finch-Fetchly and Draco swaying nearby. They were as close as was physically possible and making doe-eyes at each other. A lump formed in Harry's stomach and he looked down at Emma. He wanted to be that in love with someone. Emma looked right back at him and smiled the prettiest smile he'd ever witnessed. He couldn't help but lean down and kiss her. She made a little mewling noise and pulled him close. It was nice.

It had been a month and Smith was beginning to feel settled. It helped that Cordelia and Merton were so welcoming, and that Draco had made it his personal mission to help him acclimate. Over the past month they had gone to lunch nearly every other day, and when he wasn't spending time with his mate, Draco was at Smith's apartment. Smith got the sense that Draco's mate was being kept in the dark about this, but as Smith himself wasn't being forthcoming with his own lover, he didn't think he had a right to say anything to Draco about it.

In the back of his mind, Smith knew that he and Jordan weren't going to make it. Draco in all his stunning glory was the feature of his dreams and fantasies, not Jordan. It was Draco he longed to lie next to in the dark and wake up next to in the morning. But now Draco had a mate, a man he was supposedly destined to be with. Listening to Draco speak of him was an exercise in patience. Half of Smith wanted to scream at the unfairness of having the perfect man for him taken by another. Smith had had him first, after all. It wasn't quite fair. But then, at other times, Smith found himself resisting the urge to laugh. The way Draco described this Justin convinced Smith that Justin could never truly be Draco's soul mate. They were far too different.

And now Smith would be forced to meet this Justin. At the apartment Draco shared with the man. With Jordan at his side. He could already sense that the night was going to be a disaster. Jordan smiled at him and leant over to kiss him briefly. He'd been doing that ever since he arrived by portkey the day before, kissing and touching him at random. Smith supposed it was normal to want to be in constant physical contact with your lover after having been away from each other for months, but Smith's heart wasn't totally in it. He really should just end the relationship, but for what? Even if Draco wanted him as much as he wanted Draco, Draco was supposedly with his soul mate. How could Smith compete with that, even if he didn't personally believe it to be true.

As though thoughts of him conjured the man himself, the door swung open and there was Draco, shimmering from head to toe in silver and practically glowing. Smith could sense the cloud of pheromones around the veela and reminded himself to resist the temptation. He had gotten very good at resisting Draco's pheromones as of late. "Smith, darling! I'm so glad you could come. And this must be Jordan. How pleasant to finally meet you. Come in, come in." He gestured them in with a sweeping hand, a smile plastered on his face, but Smith saw the darting look he gave to Jordan's Muggle clothes.

"Thanks for having us, Draco. This is Jordan. Jordan, meet my friend Draco."

Jordan smiled and shook Draco's hand, nothing in his appearance indicating that he had noticed Draco's slight hostility. "It's nice to meet you, Draco."

"Likewise. Let me take your coats." Only Smith was able to detect the dismissive tone of his voice. They were ushered in and their coats taken and more introductions were made. There were quite a few people crammed into the flat, none of whom Smith recognized except for a guy Smith could have sworn was Harry Potter. He was distracted from the thought by the appearance of his rival—had he really just thought that?—at Draco's side.

"Smith, Jordan, please meet my mate, Justin Finch-Fletchly. Justin, this is my good friend Smith Michael and his lover, Jordan… I'm sorry, Smith has never told me your surname." The look on Draco's face spoke volumes of how interested he was to find that particularly bit of information out.

"Harris. Jordan Harris. It's nice to meet you, Justin." He and Justin shook hands, and then it was Smith's turn. He plastered on a fake smile and shook the other man's hand, looking him over as he did so. Justin was tall, but that was all he had going for him. He was thin and weedy, his teeth were stained from too much tea, and the mustard-colored sweater he wore made him look sickly. Smith smiled to himself. He always tried not to be a vain man, but there was little doubt in his head that he was much more attractive than Justin.

The moment of introduction passed and drinks were acquired. Draco took them around and introduced them to a few of his friends, including a very attractive black man who turned out to be a vampire, a pug-nosed woman who looked as though she smelled something awful at every turn (Jordan hadn't much liked her, and truth be told, neither had Smith), and two very large men who reminded Smith more of henchmen for an evil villain in a movie than someone's close friends. Draco even introduced them to the man Smith had thought looked like Harry Potter, and to his astonishment, it actually was the man himself. Jordan had excitedly begun asking questions about the war, unsurprising as he was a history freak if ever there was one.

Smith quickly lost interest in the conversation and excused himself to go in search of Draco. He found him dictating directions to a stressed-looking house-elf wearing a festive Christmas dish towel. He lit up at the sight of Smith, house-elf forgotten. "Smith, darling, what are you doing in the kitchen?"

"Looking for you, actually. Jordan's busy talking to Harry Potter." He walked over to stand in front of Draco, who was leaning against the counter and smiling that silly smile again. It sort of took Smith's breath away. "I thought you hated his guts. What's he doing here?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I still do sometimes, and I most certainly do _not_ approve of the female he brought with him, but we get on better now. He's been adopted into Justin's family the same as Justin has been and we've been thrown together quite a lot. Also, I'm trying to get him to release a dear friend of mine from Azkaban to mine and my mother's care."

"Always something in it for you, isn't there?" He didn't mean it as an insult, and thankfully Draco didn't take it as one. Instead, he beamed.

"Of course. I wouldn't be a very good Slytherin if there wasn't."

Smith had gotten really close to Draco, a fact that Draco didn't seem to mind. He dipped his head down, close enough to kiss. Still Draco didn't seem to mind. "That's why I like you so much," Smith whispered just before pressing his lips to Draco's. For a moment, neither of them moved, Smith from shock at what he had just done. He could only guess at what was happening inside Draco's head. He quickly pulled away once his senses returned and began apologizing. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. We're both in relationships. I shouldn't be kissing you, but it's all I've been thinking about for weeks now, and meeting Justin didn't help."

There would have been more apologies, but Draco stopped him with his lips. Long fingers dug into his hair and familiar, neat fingernails scratched at his scalp. He had forgotten just how much he enjoyed Draco's habit of trying to practically crawl inside someone when he kissed them, how wanted it always made him feel. Their brief time together had been such a long time ago, but he felt like they were falling right back into their rhythm. Smith flicked his tongue against Draco's lips, and was just about to make an entrance inside when a loud laugh from behind the kitchen door brought them both back to where they were. They jumped apart and looked guiltily around the kitchen, but there was no one there, not even the house-elf.

Draco looked frantic for a fraction of a second before composing himself and quickly straightening his clothes and then Smith's hair. "I'm sorry for the outburst. I've been wanting to kiss you as much as you've been wanting to kiss me. Why don't we, er… talk about this later? When there aren't loads of people around to catch us at it, yes?"

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea." He saw the sense in this, but it didn't stop him from pecking Draco's lips one more time.

Draco flashed him a smile that quickly morphed into a disapproving look. "I don't like Jordan."

"I don't like Justin," Smith said back. They looked at each other. A decision passed between them. They wouldn't say anything more about each other's significant other, but neither would they stop what they had started.

"When does he leave?"

Smith needed no explanation to know he meant Jordan. "The day after Christmas."

"Blast," Draco muttered turning away before turning back. "I'll come by the day after. We'll talk about this."

"Sounds like a plan. For now, I'm going to kiss you one more time and then I'm going to figure out an excuse and take Jordan home, okay?"

"That sounds wonderful." They kissed again, a long but chaste one, and then Smith slipped out of the kitchen to find his partner. Jordan was sandwiched between the buffet and the pug-nosed woman, who seemed to be trying to bully him into giving her stock tips. He tried to make excuses for them to leave, but Jordan cut him off before he could finish.

"I know you're trying to save me from being manhandled by that woman, but we really don't have to leave. I'm actually having fun here. Would you mind if we stayed for a little longer?"

Jordan batted his eyelashes and Smith was feeling so guilty about having just made out with his ex in the kitchen that he caved. They ended up staying for three more hours, and Jordan enjoyed himself immensely. For Smith, they were three very uncomfortable hours.

When they finally got home, Jordan was quiet while they showered and got ready for bed. It was odd given how much fun he had apparently had, how much alcohol he had imbibed, and how much he usually liked to talk after parties. They made love, but it wasn't the most exciting sex they had ever shared and they both knew it. Jordan studied him for a long time afterwards. He tried to pretend to go to sleep, but Jordan saw right through him.

"I think I'm going to go home tomorrow," he said.

Smith sat up, all pretense of sleep gone. "What? Why?"

Jordan rolled his eyes. "I'm not stupid, you know. This isn't going to work any more. I sort of knew it wouldn't work from the minute you said you were coming here, but I always kind of hoped that maybe I was just being paranoid. But you want him. I can see it in your eyes every time you look at him. And he wants you, too. I don't stay where I'm not wanted, Michael. You know that." He gave Smith a direct look and Smith cowered back into the pillows. He knew it was bad when Jordan used his real first name.

"Would there be any point in denying that I want him?" br  
"No."

"I'm sorry. I didn't want things to play out this way. I did love you, you know."

"I know. Just not more than you love him."

There was no use denying it, so he didn't. "I'm sorry, Jordan."

"I know you are. It's all right. I'm glad I was able to see it for myself. That's why I made you stay so much longer. I wanted to be sure. I am now."

"You can stay until after the holidays, if you want." "I don't. I love you, but there's no reason for me to stay here when I can be with my family."

"All right, I understand."

Jordan lay down and pulled the blankets up to his chin. "Good night."

"Night. I'm really sorry."

"I know."

It had been a long night; by rights, Justin should have been asleep, but he just couldn't close his eyes. Draco was curled into his side, his head resting on Justin's chest, leg resting atop Justin's. Though it was late, all Justin could do was run his fingers through Draco's baby-fine hair and think about how much he loved him and how much he did not want to lose him. Maybe they should do the bond. It would solidify what they felt for each other. There would be no way for Draco to leave him if they were bonded. So, Ernie said he would have him prosecuted. All he would need to do was prove that he was Draco's true mate, and how could they disprove such a thing? It wasn't as though there were tests. Were there?

/

**Form:**83352739

**Name:**DracoMalfoy

**Registry Number:** 625369

**Date:** December 18, 2003

**Age:**23

**Mate:** Justin Finch-Fletchly

**Current Location:** London, England

**Number of Sexual Encounter(s):** 10

**Name(s) of Partner(s):** Justin Finch-Fletchly 10(M)

**Age(s) of Partner(s):** 23

**Species of Partner(s):** wizard

**Description of Sexual Encounter(s):** Uneventful, not that I would tell you I if the situation had been otherwise.

**Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s)?:** Yes

**If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects?:** Nothing beyond the norm

**Did any encounter result in pregnancy?:**

**Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate?:** Yes

**If so, how and why?:** As you know, getting my own way is a priority.

**Comments: ** I am having concerns about a few of my behaviors. Would it be possible to meet with you? Without letting Justin know?


	15. Chapter 15

**Title:** Department of Magical Creatures Case #645369

**Author:** feltonxmalfoy

**Beta:** wwmrsweasleydo

**Pairing:** DM/RW (eventually), DM/EM, DM/SF, DM/TH, DM/JFF, DM/multipleOMC's, RW/2OMC's, HG/OMC, BW/FD

**Chapter:** Fifteen

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** slash, swearing, sexual acts

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** At 21, Draco Malfoy is on a journey to find his life mate, but is delayed by pesky Hufflepuffs screaming 'regulations' and 'laws'. Please, Malfoys play by their own rules.

**A/N: **Happy Halloween! Just to let you know, chapter 16 is half-written, but will probably take two or three more weeks to finish. It should be up before Thanksgiving if real life doesn't take over again. Thank you all for your wonderful comments!

* * *

There was something _wrong _with him. He had suspected it before, but MacMillan had convinced him that he was fine. This time, he was certain. There was no other explanation for a veela who cheated on his mate. It just wasn't physically _possible_. Draco was beside himself with guilt. Every minute he spent with Justin, he wanted to tell him what he was doing, how _dirty_ he felt. Only his upbringing allowed him to keep the font of confessions from springing forth. The logical thing to do would be to simply stop seeing Smith. They didn't live in the same city. It wasn't always the easiest thing to see one another. He could stop.

Except that he couldn't. And the worst part was that he didn't _want_ to stop. There was something so wonderful about being with Smith, so warm and electrifying, that all Draco could think about when he left Smith's side was when he would be able to see him again. Even when the guilt was so thick he thought he might drown in it, a little spark in the back of his brain was running over the various scenarios that would lead to him seeing Smith again.

Out of sheer desperation, he did the only thing he could think of to do. He went to see his mother. As the visit was unannounced, Narcissa was not in the sun room as she usually was. Barneby was helpful enough to direct Draco to the study, where Draco usually took care of the business of the estate. He couldn't fathom why she would need to be there. That is, until he found her sitting in the chair that had been his father's, looking very small and forlorn. There were no tears, though, so perhaps the situation wasn't as dire as he feared.

"Good afternoon, Mother," Draco said as he stepped into the room.

"Good afternoon, darling. How are you?" She smiled at him. It was a sad one, but it was there, and Draco went over to kiss her cheek.

"I am here to speak to you about how I am, actually, but that can wait. Why are you in the study?"

"I come here sometimes when I want to be closer to you father. I can sit in here and close my eyes and remember him, sitting in this chair in the mornings, going through the post." She closed her eyes and was quiet for a moment, and Draco could almost imagine his father standing behind her, the way they had sat together for the family portrait they had had done when Draco was six. He hadn't liked his father in the last few years of his life; Lucius had frightened him and made him feel unsafe at the end. But up until the day reality had hit, up on that tower with Dumbledore, Lucius had been his entire world. He understood what his mother felt in missing him. In another, sadder way, he didn't. Deep in the pit of his soul he knew that if Justin were to leave him, he would not go into the depths of depression that his mother felt. The knowledge worried him more than anything up to that point had. "What has happened, dear? You look troubled."

Draco sighed and perched on the edge of the desk, oblivious to his mother's reproachful look. "When you and Father first found each other, before you bonded officially, did you have doubts?"

"About Lucius? Never. I've told you before, I knew from the age of fourteen that Lucius was my mate. There was never any question. Why? Do you question?"

Draco worried the seam of his robes with his fingers and didn't look his mother in the face. "I've done much worse than question. I have been unfaithful."

There was a long silence following this statement, and the room felt as though it had suddenly been filled with lead. Draco felt his heart plummet to his shoes, a familiar sensation of late. He still could not look at his mother.

"You have been unfaithful. In thought or in deed?"

"Both. Do you remember the American I told you about? The musician who works for Aunt Antigone's acquaintance, Cordelia -? He and I have been… intimate."

The silence was longer this time. Draco finally broke and looked up at his mother's face, and it was immediately clear that she was speechless. He looked back down at his hands, the shame filling him so completely that he found it difficult to breathe.

"How could you do such a thing, Draco? I thought he was your mate. Is he not your soul?"

"He is! I love him very much. There's just something about Smith. I can't explain it, and it's tearing me apart, but I can't stop. When I'm with him, I don't even think about Justin, but the opposite isn't true. When I'm with Justin, there is a part of my brain calculating when I will be able to see Smith again. There has to be something wrong with me, doesn't there? How could I do such a thing? I feel like a monster."

His mother paused once more, but he felt a hand on his knee, so he knew that she wasn't completely disgusted with him. Yet. "You are not a monster. You are my son. There must be another explanation. Are you certain that he is your mate?"

"Yes." He said the word with conviction, but a small part of his heart said no.

"Then, perhaps you should speak with your counselor."

"I have a meeting scheduled for next week. I wanted to speak with you first. He's just a wizard; he's never experienced this before, only read about it and listened to other veelas' stories."

"I have never heard of these things happening between a veela and his or her mate. I do not know what could be the problem. Unless…" She paused, considering him.

"Are you certain, darling? Are you absolutely certain that he is your mate?"

Draco hesitated, eyes filled with tears. It hurt so terribly, knowing what he was doing, what sort of veela he was. It was unnatural. But he could feel the ball of warmth inside himself and remembered how certain he was that night when they had made love at the top of the Weasley hovel. He had been absolutely sure that he was in the presence of his mate then, hadn't he? Why did he have these doubts now? He shook himself of these thoughts and nodded at his mother. She squeezed his knee and said nothing more. Draco knew that there was nothing more she could say.

/

Draco sat ramrod straight in the uncomfortable guest chair in front of Ernie's desk. Ernie watched how careful he was with his posture and grew concerned. Draco was usually rather lazy in his seat, belying his disrespect for Ernie's authority.

"What exactly did you want to talk to me about today, Malfoy?" Ernie asked.

"I have a… concern."

The blond didn't meet his eyes, never a good sign. Ernie sat up and pushed his paperwork to the side. "What's wrong?"

"I… I've been…" His voice was choked. "I haven't been faithful to my mate."

Ernie's stomach fell into his shoes. He had been expecting this, but the conversation he was about to have was not going to be pleasant. "Okay…" He took a deep breath, but before he could continue, a flood of words came bursting from Draco.

"I don't know what's wrong with me! I love Justin so much, but I can't seem to keep my hands off of Smith. I have been spending a lot of time with him while Justin's at work, and I haven't told Justin about it. Why would I do this? I thought once I found my mate, he became my whole life. Is it because we haven't bonded yet? Justin only agreed to thinking about it a few days ago, but should I be more insistent? Is that what's wrong with me? I feel so terrible about myself, but I just can't stop. All I think about when Justin is gone is being with Smith. I've even started looking at men on the street. I nearly propositioned a man on my way here! What is wrong with me?"

Ernie stood and rounded his desk to grab ahold of Draco before he became hysterical. "Calm down!" he shouted. The shock of it shook Draco from his self-deprecating monologue. He took a deep breath and finally met Ernie's eyes. "There's nothing wrong with you. Let me explain." He took a seat in the other guest chair and turned it to face the veela. Draco's face was red with emotion and there were tears rimming his eyes. Ernie sighed and scrubbed at his hair in frustration. He never should have allowed the situation to get as serious as it had.

"This is my fault. I should have been more honest with you from the beginning, but I don't actually like you, or at least I didn't before. That isn't an excuse for my actions, and I apologize immensely. I was wrong, and I should have talked to you about this as soon as you came to me about Justin."

"What?"

Ernie took another deep breath to prepare himself for the wall of anger he knew was waiting on the other side of his next sentence. "Justin isn't your mate."

Instead of anger, there was silence.

"I knew when I talked to Justin that he wasn't your true mate. That's why I haven't given you the new forms, and I haven't been pushing you to bond with him." Draco was still silent, staring at him as though he were speaking a foreign language the blond did not speak, so he went on. "Again, I'm very sorry. I should have said something. Your reaction to him wasn't as strong as it would be if he really were your mate. Veela who find their true mates lose all sense of reality. Until physical contact has been made, I understand that nothing else in the world exists. A lot of veela I've spoken with have said they couldn't stop shaking until they touched their mate. You never reported any of those behaviors, and neither did Justin when I spoke to him. I let you believe that Justin was your mate initially because I was angry with you for bursting in on my meeting with the Minister. I never said anything because I didn't think it would hurt anything to let you keep believing. Justin loves you, or at least thinks he loves you. He's my friend, and I wanted him to be happy. But now I see that I was blinded by prejudice against you. I never should have allowed this to continue.

"I told Justin from the beginning that if he ever allowed you to formally bond with him that I would have him legally prosecuted. He knew from the beginning that he wasn't your mate. I should have known that he would convince himself otherwise, the longer he stayed with you." Ernie would have continued, but Draco's hand clamped around his wrist and squeezed. Hard.

"Do you mean to tell me that the man I have shared my bed with for more than a year is entirely aware that he is not my mate, and has consciously lied to me this entire time?" Draco's voice was as strong and as cold as his grip. Ernie felt his bones shift and feared they might break. He only didn't shake Draco off because he thought he might deserve the injury. The pain in Draco's eyes almost broke his heart. How could he have been so cruel?

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"I'm certain you are." He stood abruptly, dropping Ernie's wrist. "I appreciate your honesty, however late it has come. I understand your reasoning for withholding this information. I have been awful to you, and you never deserved that. We are even now. If you will excuse me." With a stern nod he was out the door before Ernie could say another word to him.

Ernie sat, stunned. Had Malfoy just apologized to him? What had just happened? And what sort of hell was Justin about to walk home into?

/

The sort of hell Justin walked into was a good deal more literal than he would have liked. There was a fire in his living room. A towering inferno of his belongings and a very angry veela standing next to it, wand pointed at his chest. "Draco, love, what are you doing?" he shouted. He started for Draco to shield him from the flames, but a warning flash of green sparks flew from Draco's wand that made him stop dead.

"I learned a new trick today," Draco said, voice made of ice. Justin was so distracted by the hate in his eyes that he almost missed the ball of flame hurtling towards his head, but he managed to duck just in time and shout his surprise.

"What the…?"

"I can make fireballs out of thin air. Like full veela. Did you know that half-veela can do that sometimes if they're angry enough? Do you know how angry a half-veela has to be in order to produce fireballs out of thin air?" He was speaking very slowly and making strides towards Justin, strides that Justin quickly had sense enough to back away from. The look in Draco's eyes filled Justin with a cold dread like he hadn't felt since the Dark Lord invaded Hogwarts.

"Draco…"

"Do. Not. Say. My. Name. You are no longer permitted even the _though_t of my name. You are nothing to me. NOTHING!" Justin jumped at the shout, his back hitting the wall as Draco stepped within a foot of him. There was another fireball floating an inch above his left hand; Justin could feel the heat of it. "Do you know how long I have been agonizing over you? How terrible I've felt lately? I've been sleeping with Smith for over a month now." Justin felt as though he'd been slapped, and Draco jumped on the expression. "That's right, you didn't know that, did you? I thought there was something wrong with me. What sort of veela could I be, cheating on the one person who is supposed to be my soul mate? How could I possibly allow another person to touch me. Kiss me. Fuck me? On the bed that I share with my _mate_? You have no idea the self-loathing I have been feeling. The disgust with myself.

"How funny it is now, knowing that all that agonizing was for nothing. Now that I know that not only are you not my mate, but that you. Knew. You. Weren't. My. Mate." Justin could hear the grinding of his teeth together as he spat out the end of the sentence. He winced and turned his face away, unable to look at the man he loved in the face of his betrayal.

"You have exactly thirty seconds to get the fuck out of my flat before I burn you alive along with everything else."

Normally, Justin would have argued, but the look in Draco's eyes and the heat of the flame he held in his hand told him that there was no arguing with the veela. It was safer to go and come back when he had calmed down. And preferably, when Justin had spoken to Ernie and found out what the bloody hell had happened. And so instead he quickly shuffled to the door and fumbled for the handle, his sweaty hand slipping. He got it open and rushed out just in time to close it on another fireball.

/

Smith was just getting out of the shower when an insistent banging began on his front door. He rushed to open it, worried the noise would wake the girls' governess next door. Daria already complained enough about the volume of his music; he didn't want to think about the snit she would kick up over late-night visitors waking her. It was no surprise when he opened the door to find Draco on the other side—he was the only person likely to knock on Smith's door this late at night, at least on this side of the Atlantic—but he was stunned at the blond's appearance. Draco was a complete mess, hair in disarray, scorch marks creating huge holes in his designer clothing, tear-tracks down his cheeks. He looked like death warmed over. Smith immediately opened his arms without question and was met with an armful of tearful veela. "What's wrong, baby?" he whispered into messy, singed, blonde hair.

"I… Just hold me. Please? I don't want to think about anything but you right now."

"Whatever you want, baby." Smith closed the door behind the blond and led him over to the couch, where Draco unceremoniously fell apart in his arms.

/

Ron hadn't been home for this long since he moved out; it was weird being back here now. Staying a few days for Christmas or Easter was fine, but they had been here since Christmas Eve and it was the first week of January. He was feeling claustrophobic from all the mothering he was being subjected to while they waited for his first niece to finally make an appearance. So far, Fleur's pregnancy hadn't made her that much more obnoxious than she normally was, and so Ron had been able to tolerate the hormone fluctuations, etc. It served to convince him that he was not for women, but it had been tolerable.

And then Justin appeared on their doorstep and everything went to hell. Ron had not had a lot of contact with Justin, having already moved to Egypt by the time Justin's whole coming out debacle happened and Ron's mum and dad took him in. He had only seen him once since Hogwarts, the previous Christmas, and they hadn't talked much. Now Justin was such a mess that Ron felt uncomfortable being in the same room with him, let alone conversing with him.

Ron had been the one to open the door the night he showed up. He had been sobbing so hard he could barely catch his breath and there had been scorch marks on his cloak. Ron had known he was supposedly mated to Malfoy, so he was a little surprised at Justin's claim that Malfoy had left him. He'd led Justin into the house, trying to be comforting—the bloke was supposed to be family after all—but had gladly relinquished his comforting duties to Molly as soon as she entered the room. She had sat him on the couch and ordered someone to bring him some tea (Bill volunteered before Ron could).

"I didn't think veela were capable of leaving their mates, are they?" Ron asked tactlessly. His mother shot him a Look that shamed him into shutting his mouth and retreating to a corner of the room.

Justin was still sobbing, and he paused every few words as he explained so that he could take gasping breaths. "They… they… they can't, as far as I… know. I… I did a… a terrible thing. I knew I wasn't… wasn't his mate. I didn't tell… didn't tell him. I… I loved him… too much… I thought… thought if I loved… him hard enough… I'd become… his mate. I was wrong. He… he… he's been cheating… on me… with this stupid American bloke… told me today… He was really upset… so upset he made fireballs with his hands… threw them at me… burned all my stuff… kicked me out…" At this confession he began really sobbing and wheezing as he gasped for breaths between words. "I don't know what to do, Molly. He's my whole world… I feel… feel like I can't… can't breathe… without him."

His story left everyone in the house unable to speak. Bill came back with the tea and silently handed it to Molly, who handed it to Justin. Justin took it with shaking hands, but he was too upset even to bring the cup to his lips without spilling scalding tea all over his robes. Molly rubbed his back, but she was giving Arthur a horrified look. Ron had seen that look before, when Fred and George had come home to tell their parents they were thinking about marrying their girlfriend (It had taken Molly several minutes to understand that they were both sleeping with the same woman, at the same time, but once the realization hit…). Thankfully, the relationship hadn't panned out the way they had hoped it would, and as far as Ron knew, they were going out with two different women now.

Fleur was the first to move. She stood up, with the quick help of George, who still looked stunned dumb. She glared at Justin, one hand protectively over her swollen belly as though he had just threatened to kill her unborn daughter, and started spewing a line of hateful French. No one but Bill had any idea what she was saying, but the look on Bill's face spoke volumes for the vitriolic nature of the speech. She spit at his shoes and waddled out of the room, a stream of angry French following in her wake. She was so angry with Justin that she forgot how to speak English for a full hour, and when she finally remembered how, the entire house wished she hadn't.

Now Justin was sleeping in Ginny's room until he could find another flat. The first few days, he had had to borrow some of the twins' clothes to go to work (a feet that required several calming potions and urgings from Arthur) because Malfoy had sealed the flat they shared and was returning all his owls unopened. Ron didn't blame him, really. It was a rotten thing to do to someone, letting them think they've found their soul mate when they hadn't. Ron found it harder than usual to speak to Justin, not sure what to say to him. He pitied him a little bit, but after a discussion with Fleur that had outlined exactly how nasty what Justin had done was, he wasn't really able to muster up much sympathy. The fact that the sympathy he might have had for Justin had already gone to Malfoy didn't help his kind feelings towards his adopted brother any, either.

Two days after his arrival, a carrier pigeon arrived with a parcel for Justin. His things, it turned out, or what was left of them. The American bloke Malfoy had been sleeping with had been nice enough to gather up what was left after Malfoy's bonfire and sent it all over. Truth be told, there wasn't much, just some clothes, some Muggle things that had Ron's dad in fits of excitement but baffled everyone else, and a blackened wooden chair leg. Justin broke down when he saw it.

There was a note attached that said simply:

Draco asked me to remove everything of yours from his apartment. He doesn't want to see you again, and he wanted me to make sure to tell you that if you ever try to contact him again, he will be filing legal charges against you.

Hope you're happy, asshole.

- Smith Michael

The note was a little harsh, but Ron could understand the bloke's frustration. He could only imagine what he was dealing with at his end, what with Malfoy so angry he was making fireballs.

/

Thankfully, the stress of her anger finally caused Fleur's water to break and the production that was the birth of his niece finally went underway. Fleur was loud and demanding during the labor—totally unsurprising. Ron was just happy he wasn't married to her and therefore wasn't obliged to go anywhere near the third floor.

Fleur's family swooped down on them as soon as the news reached them, and the amount of cousins involved shocked even Ron, whose family was so big he occasionally wondered if they could form their own Quidditch team. There hadn't been this many people at the wedding. Granted, the wedding had happened during the War, so Ron thought a lot of them might have stayed home, but still. There were too many people to fit on the ground floor all at once, and as a result, Arthur had had to temporarily enlarge the living room. Ron worried to himself that there would be structural problems if the spell lasted for too long. In all the chaos, Ron was surprised to discover that little Gabrielle wasn't so little anymore, having grown into a striking young woman who was just as breathtakingly beautiful as Fleur. She flung herself at him as soon as she spotted him in the crowd and gave him a very enthusiastic kiss on the cheek. "Ronald! It eez so good to see you! Zis is so exciting, no? We are going to be tante et oncle soon! Are you not excited? 'Ow are you? 'ow eez 'Arry?" she asked in a flurry of words that had him a little dizzy.

"Hey, Gabrielle. I'm all right, you?"

She beamed at him and made him momentarily dizzy again. She had certainly inherited as much veela allure as Fleur, and she was not shy about using it. "I am doing very well, obviously! I am about to be une tante!"

"Yeah." Ron didn't really know what else to say. He had an inclining that maybe Fleur hadn't told her sister that Ron was gay, and he was going to have to explain himself pretty soon. He really preferred when other people had that conversation for him, less awkwardness that way.

As an avoidance tactic, he asked her to introduce him to some of her cousins that he hadn't met yet. She did so, with gusto, but the only person he ended up remembering's name was she and Fleur's grand-mere. She was a full-veela, and she pierced Ron with a penetrating look that made him feel completely naked. "You are marked," she said in a thick French accent that he almost couldn't decipher.

"What?" he asked, confused, completely unconscious of how rude he was being. Marked for what?

"In your magic, zer is sign. A…" Her beautiful face wrinkled in thought. "I do not know zee word, but eet eez zer." She pressed a finger to his chest, the concentration on her face a little scary. "You meet 'im, and eet will be ovare, oui?" She waited for him to respond, but he was so confused that all he could do was nod. He managed to slip away a few minutes later, while Gabrielle was telling their grand-mere how excited she was to be an aunt. At least, that's what Ron thought she was saying, as neither of them were speaking English.

He found a chair far away from the crowd and sat to think. What had she meant, he was marked? What kind of sign could there be in his magic? What had she meant by, 'You meet him, and it will be over'? Meet who? What was going on that could be stopped if he met this mystery person? There was something he was missing. His brain was just on the verge of grasping the cornel of thought when he was interrupted by the arrival of a gorgeous man who was smiling at him knowingly.

"You will 'ave to excuse ma grand-mere. Sometimes she says zings zat do make not ze sense, no? It iz ze veela in 'er." Ron blinked at him, not sure what to say. The man's smile widened and he held out his hand. "I apologize. I am being rude. My name is Francois Delaceour. Gabrielle introduced us earlier, but I zink you were a little er… 'ow do you say… too many people at one time, non?" His accent was nearly as thick as Gabrielle's grand-mere, but Ron was able to muddle out what he said and went to shake the hand offered to him.

"Ron Weasley, but you probably already knew that."

To his surprise, rather than shaking hands, Francois lifted Ron's hand to his lips and kissed it. Ron blushed a violent red at the action. No one had ever kissed his hand before, and he felt a little bit like a girl. "It iz a pleasure to meet you, Ronald."

"Just Ron, if you don't mind."

"Ron, zen. You may call me Franck. Would you like to make a coffee wiz me? I think Fleur iz taking ze long time wiz ze birthing."

"Yeah, that sounds like Fleur. A tea break would be good." He stood to go with Franck and was surprised when Franck took his hand. It was strange for a moment, holding hands with someone again. He hadn't since Forten, but it was… nice. Franck's hand was wider than his, but softer, like he didn't do much manual labor. Ron wondered what he did for a living. Ron's own hands were rough and callused from all the time he spent in the wind and the sand out in the desert.

Franck gave him a concerned look, having sensed his hesitation. "Iz zis wrong? I am sorry. Sometimes, I am too open wiz ze touching. I forget zat Englishmen are not so friendly."

Ron shook his head, smiling shyly. He found himself again feeling a bit like a girl. "No, it's okay. I just haven't held anyone's hand in a while. I er… I like it."

"Good. I zink I like to 'old your 'and very much. Come, let us go make ze coffee." He paused and gave Ron a dazzling smile. "And tea. Much of ze tea." He over-emphasized the long 'e' sound as though trying to prove to Ron that he could pronounce it correctly. Normally, something like that would have irritated Ron, but he found that he kind of liked it.

They went into the kitchen, oddly empty except for a lone Delacour child whose name Ron didn't remember. They set about making tea and coffee, an easier task than Ron expected thanks to Franck's handy mastery of kitchen charms. They were soon sitting at the kitchen table together. Frank twirled his spoon through his coffee and watched Ron with a little smile on his face. Ron shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't used to being scrutinized so intently. "You are Fleur's brozer-in-law, oui?"

"Yeah, I'm the youngest." He felt a pang in his heart. Youngest son used to be what he meant, but now it was true in both senses. His thoughts fell on Ginny for a moment. Franck picked up on the melancholy.

"You are sad. Why iz zis? You should be happy, non? Zer iz a new member of ze family, soon."

"Yeah, I was just thinking of my sister. I guess the new baby's brought her to mind."

"Why iz zat? I did not know Fleur 'as a sister-in-law, too." He looked interested, really interested in a way that people usually aren't. Ron was never much for talking about emotional things, but Franck made him feel oddly comfortable enough to want to.

"She er… she died, during the war. Was killed, actually."

"I am very sorry to 'ear zat. Is it all right if I ask what 'appened?"

Ron fiddled with the bag still in his tea cup so he wouldn't have to look Franck in the eye. "It was during the war. She got caught by a curse meant for someone else—Harry, actually. I remember he kept yelling at her to stay out of the way so she wouldn't get hurt. They were engaged. He hadn't even wanted her on the field, but she'd fought him." He smiled a little to himself and vanished the used tea bag before it could turn the flavor of the tea. "She was like that, stubborn. Never listened when someone told her not to do something. Drove us all mad." He was lost in thought for a minute, remembering some of his sister's more stubborn moments. Franck took his hand across the table, not hard as he had chosen the seat next to Ron rather than across from him. The surprise of the sudden touch shook Ron of the thoughts, and he looked back at Franck. Franck gave his hand a little squeeze. "The curse severed her legs. There wasn't any time to take her to hospital right away, too much fighting going on. We had to wait until there was a lull, but by then it was too late. She'd lost too much blood, too quickly."

"Zat must 'ave been terrible, wiz all ze ozer zings you were going s'rough as well."

"It was… hard. She was the youngest and the only girl. It was like a hole had been cut out of us, you know? Harry got the worst of it. He went completely mad for a while, really angry. Blamed himself for what happened, you know? He had to see a mind healer, but even then, he still has a problem with his temper from it sometimes. They almost didn't let him into the Aurors because of it."

"Is 'e an Auror? I did not know zat. Where is it zat you work?"

"I'm an assistant Curse Breaker. I was working under Bill for Gringotts, but now I'm working for the magical branch of the British Museum. What do you do?"

"I am a teacher at Beauxbatons. A Curse Breaker is a very exciting job, yes? Dangerous?"

"It can be. I like it, though. We're working on a mystery right now that's really interesting."

"Really? And what is it zat is such a mystery?" Even though they had switched to less melancholy subjects, Franck still had a hold of his hand, and he was rubbing small circles over his palm with his thumb. Each circle sent a tiny flicker of warmth through Ron, not quite arousal, but close.

"I would love to tell you, but it's top secret. What do you teach at Beauxbatons?"

"I am ze professor of Magical Biology."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "What does that mean?"

Franck frowned, clearly not sure how to explain in English. "It is ze study of ze body. I teach 'ow magic flows in ze body, 'ow ze body… works. And also, ze magical animals. I teach 'ow zeir bodies work, as well."

"Like Care of Magical Creatures at Hogwarts?"

"In a way. It is not about 'ow to care for zem, zough. It is about 'ow zeir bodies work, what is undernease zeir skin. And also about ze way our 'uman bodies work."

Ron didn't know what to say. He had never heard of a class like that. Instinct told him if Hermione heard about it, she'd be campaigning for the same class to be taught at Hogwarts. He made a mental note not to tell her. Hogwarts kids had enough to worry about. "That's interesting. We didn't have any courses like that at Hogwarts."

"Oui, I know. 'Ogwarts is 'aving ze same lessons for many, many years. Beauxbatons tries to be more… what is ze word?... modern, I suppose. It is sad. One day, per'aps zings shall change. Per'aps by ze time we 'ave children, yes?"

Ron's eyes darted back to his tea. Children weren't really in his cards, and he was getting the impression Franck was talking about them having children together. "I'm not for kids."

"No?" Franck frowned and studied Ron for a long moment. Ron did his best to let his chair swallow him. That stare was something else. "You will change your mind, I zink. You 'ave a large 'eart. You will want to share it one day, yes?"

"Maybe…"

Franck beamed and squeezed Ron's hand. "Speaking of babies, zere is one being born right now. Shall we go up and check ze progress?"

"I uh… I was kind of hoping to avoid the whole… birth thing. Is it okay if we just stay here? They'll find us if something happens."

"Probably." Franck smiled a knowing smile that made Ron worry that the Frenchman could see inside his soul. Intellectually, he knew that wasn't possible, but it still freaked him out a little. "I know zis is unusual, but may I call on you?"

Ron blinked at him. "I… er… what do you mean?"

"May I come and visit with you? As a lover?"

Ron was finding it hard to muddle through the language barrier, but he thought he might sort of understand what Franck was trying to get at. "Are you asking me out?"

"Is zat what it is called in English? Yes, I am 'asking you out.'" He spoke the final phrase slowly and in the best English accent he could manage, the way someone might speak to a deaf person. Ron almost laughed at the funny way his face wrinkled as he spoke.

"You um… yeah. I'd like to see you again. As a lover."

"Excellent." He had returned to the thick French accent; it made Ron smile. Franck zeroed in on his smile and leaned closer. "I am going to kiss you now. I 'ope you do not mind." And he did, thoroughly and with a take-no-prisoners attitude that left Ron a little dizzy.

"Yeah, I'd definitely like to see you again as a lover," he chocked out. Franck laughed, loud enough for the little boy in the corner to look up from his play. Franck ignored the boy and gave Ron another, shorter kiss.

They talked for a long time about their lives, asking each other questions, flirting. It was nice. Ron felt truly comfortable in his own skin while he was with Franck. By the time the shout rang out that announced the baby's arrival, it felt as though minutes rather than hours had passed, and Ron had a new boyfriend.

/

Harry knew what Draco had invited him here to ask, but that hadn't stopped him from coming. He had heard from Ron about the break-up and how rough it had been on Justin's end. He was curious to hear Draco's side. He also thought it would be a good idea to check out this new-found ability of Draco's to throw fire balls. He hadn't thought Draco had any veela abilities that were dark. One look at Draco after hopping onto the stool next to him told Harry all he needed to know. Draco looked rough. He looked as though he had not slept in several days and had skipped three or four meals more than he ought to have done. He glanced up at Harry's arrival and raised his glass in greeting.

"All right, Malfoy?"

"All right. I'm starting to think you had something with that karma rubbish, you know. My heart is broken, I am without a mate, and you smell like the most delicious Christmas ham I've ever tasted. The universe hates me." Draco downed the rest of his scotch in one swallow and knocked on the bar for another. Harry was alarmed. Draco was never this undignified. He was almost acting common. Harry had to resist the urge to say so.

"How much've you had to drink?"

"Don't know, don't care. It's called depression, Potter. Let me drink my way out of it, please."

"Afraid I can't do that in good conscience, Draco. Let's order you some food, and make that scotch a water instead." He took the glass from Draco's hand and pushed it to the side. Draco was a little too drunk to put up much of a protest. Harry ordered a hearty plate of bangers and mash for both of them and soon they were eating. By the time his plate was clear, Draco was a little clearer in the head. Still drunk, but at least his posture was better now.

"You really must hate me, Potter. I was doing really well down there in my drunken stupor. I could go a whole minute without thinking of scenarios that ended with Justin's head ripped from his body and his detached penis stuck down his throat. But oh no, Potter has to be the sober fairy and bring me food." The look Draco gave him told Harry that Draco considered his actions to be a crime punishable by death, and also that he was picturing that death in all its gruesome details. Considering his political connections, it was an unpleasant thought.

"You invited me, Malfoy. I don't remember pity party being on the invitation."

"You're right, of course." He physically shook himself and sobered a little more. "How plebeian of me. I should be ashamed." He took a moment to collect himself and smooth his hair. He still looked like he could use a night or three of good sleep, but at least he was neat. "I wasn't lying about the Christmas ham, Potter. Have you been rolling in veela catnip? I am currently fighting the urge to rub myself all over you."

"No? Stop trying to flirt with me. I don't like blokes. And I have a girlfriend."

"You have a girlfriend? I thought you were convinced those weren't going to work out."

"Yeah, well, Emma's kind of fantastic. I couldn't help myself."

Draco blinked at him. For a moment, Harry thought Draco might actually be interested in something other than himself, but the moment passed. "I asked you here for a reason, Harry. I know we have already—"

"I'm not letting you have Snape, so you don't have to call me Harry. I know it gives you hives," Harry cut him off before he could go into what was surely going to be a long, sympathy-seeking speech.

Draco's whole body slumped. "You're a bastard."

"Takes one to know one." There was a pause, and then Harry plunged on and asked what he'd been wanting to ask. "So, what happened? I heard you got so angry you threw fireballs at his head."

"I did, indeed. I also torched all his clothes, except the few left in the hamper, and his favorite chair. I hadn't known I could do that, throwing fireballs. I did a little reading and apparently even though half-veela generally don't acquire the bird qualities and abilities of their ancestors, it is not unusual in times when the half-veela is insane with anger, that they develop the defensive mechanism. Who knew." He shrugged and took a sip of water.

"So you threw them at his head?"

"Yes. It was very satisfying."

"I don't suppose if I told you that was a wrong thing to do that you would consider listening to me." The look Draco gave him said it all. "Didn't think so. Can I ask what happened to start the fireball fight?"

"I had been displaying some peculiar behaviors for about a month. I was very worried that there might be something wrong with me, which is of course absurd. I'm perfect." Harry snorted and earned himself a glare. "I went to see MacMillan, to see what could possibly be the problem. He finally confessed that Justin was not my mate, and had known he was not my mate from day one. Naturally, I went into a rage. I had spent a year of my life believing that I had found my mate and that all the uncertainties and distractions I had been experiencing were down to my own innate wrongness. I had spent the last month agonizing over myself, and all along, there was absolutely nothing wrong with me except my body correctly recognizing that I was with the wrong person and directing me to other venues.

"After I left the Ministry, I went home and, I must confess, had a bit of a tantrum." He ignored Harry's muttered 'Big surprise.' "In my anger, my magic became erratic. It was very much like having a spurt of wild magic when you are a child. During the chaos, I suddenly found myself holding a ball of fire. I hadn't intended to conjure it, hadn't even known I was capable of such a thing. But, since it was there, I used it to burn all of Justin's clothing and his favorite chair. I even tried to burn his Muggle equipment, but I rather liked the telly and the little discs smelled funny when they touched flame."

Harry didn't know what Draco was talking about, unless he meant cds. He hadn't been allowed to touch the Dursleys' things when he lived with them, and since then he hadn't had enough time or desire to look into current Muggle technology. He didn't say so, though. Instead, he bought Draco another, lower-alcohol-content drink and urged him to continue.

"When Justin arrived home, he was naturally hysterical. He had had no warning that I had been informed of his betrayal. It was glorious, watching his world crumble around him. I could see the light dying in his eyes. I enjoyed it immensely." He smiled widely and sat up a little straighter. It was the best he had looked since Harry walked into the pub. "When I told him about sleeping with Smith, I thought he might swallow his own tongue. I wish he had. I so would have enjoyed having power over him as I saved his life. Nothing is more satisfactory than having a life debt to hang over someone's head."

"I would have thought you'd just let him die."

"I am not a murderer, Potter. You know that."

"So you kicked him out, I assume, since he's living at the Burrow right now."

"I did indeed, and now I am living with my lover, Smith Michael, who is not my mate but is still incredibly satisfying to be with."

"You're still on the hunt then, I take it?"

Draco gave him a withering look. "'On the hunt'? Honestly, Potter, I'm not a lioness. I am actively looking, yes. Smith and I have an understanding. We are together, but he knows that at any moment I could leave him for my mate. Unlike Justin, he is satisfied with this arrangement."

Harry sincerely doubted that. He had no idea why anyone could be emotionally attracted to Draco—sexually, yes, he was gorgeous (for a man) and oozed sexuality—but he didn't think anyone who was would be willing to give him up at the drop of a hat. Smith might have told Draco he was all right with the arrangement, but Harry suspected that when the reality of Draco actually leave him set in, he wouldn't react the way Draco expected him to. "Well, good. I hope you aren't planning on throwing fireballs at anyone else's head any time soon."

"No, I don't think I will. I don't actually think I could again, unless I became equally as angry as I was then. Who told you about this, by the way?"

"Ron. He was staying at the Burrow when Justin got there. Fleur had her baby."

"Fleur?"

"Fleur Weasley, Bill's wife. She was the Beauxbatons Champion during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Part-veela, French, gorgeous, snotty. Kind of like you, actually."

"I appreciate your admiration of me, Potter, but I am not certain why I am supposed to care about the doings of the Weasleys."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Nevermind, thought you might be interested since she's veela, like you. She also defended you when she heard what Justin did to you. Ron said she got so angry she forgot how to speak English for a while."

"As much as I appreciate her sympathetic rage, in future, please keep your ramblings to yourself."

Harry rolled his eyes again. "Fine, nevermind. How's your mum?"

Having found a topic that actually interested him, Draco perked up and told Harry all about how Narcissa was doing, making sure to slip in a few jibes about how much better she would be doing if she had a distraction, like taking care of Snape. Harry ignored his digs, but otherwise enjoyed the rest of their evening.

/

**Form:** 83352739

**Name:** Draco Malfoy

**Registry Number:** 625369

**Date:** January 23, 2004

**Age:** 23

**Mate:** N/A

**Current Location:** London, England

**Number of Sexual Encounter(s):** 12

**Name(s) of Partner(s):** Justin Finch-Fletchly 2(M), Smith Michael 10(M)

**Age(s) of Partner(s):** 23, 28

**Species of Partner(s):** wizards

**Description of Sexual Encounter(s):** None of your business

**Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s)?:** Yes

**If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects?:**Smith has been showing me a myriad of useful bedroom spells in English. If you would like a complete list, I can have him compile one for you.

**Did any encounter result in pregnancy?:**

**Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate?:** Yes

**If so, how and why?:** I threw fireballs at the man who betrayed me and broke my heart. I have already spoken to an Auror, so you needn't chastise me for it. I feel no remorse for the incident. He deserved it, the lying bastard.

**Comments:** If I did not have Smith to rely on, you would be in a great deal of trouble, MacMillan.


	16. Chapter 16

**Title:** Department of Magical Creatures Case #645369

**Author:** feltonxmalfoy

**Beta:** wwmrsweasleydo

**Pairing:** DM/RW, DM/EM, DM/SF, DM/TH, DM/JFF, DM/multipleOMC's, RW/2OMC's, HG/OMC, BW/FD

**Chapter:** Sixteen

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** slash, swearing, sexual acts

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** At 21, Draco Malfoy is on a journey to find his life mate, but is delayed by pesky Hufflepuffs screaming 'regulations' and 'laws'. Please, Malfoys play by their own rules.

**A/N: **This is it, finally! I hope it was worth all your patient waiting. Thank you all for your wonderful comments!

* * *

Draco had been feeling restless lately, a condition he attributed to his continuing lack of a mate. To alleviate the ache he had begun to feel, he had taken to walking the streets of London at night. Sometimes Smith came with him, but he had exams to mark that night, and so Draco was by himself. He had wanted to be alone when he'd started his walk by Apparating to the cemetery near Queen's Park. Spending time at a cemetery at night may have been considered a morbid activity, but it guaranteed that he would not be accosted. The air was crisp and warm and he was quite enjoying himself.

As restless as he had been feeling, in general he was happy. Smith had found a more permanent position at a local Wizarding primary school in London, and though it meant they spent less time together, Draco was happy with his choice. Working in London meant that he could move in with Draco, and even after two years, neither regretted the decision yet. Smith was even applying for a residency visa, a difficult and lengthy process that was being helped along by Draco's gold. Smith liked to joke that he was becoming Draco's kept man, to which Draco always replied that if it were true, Smith would quit his job and spend all day worshiping Draco's glorious body. Smith did well with Narcissa; he was kind and gentle with her and didn't mind spending afternoons at tea or playing piano for her. Aunt Antigone even approved of him, and Draco hadn't thought she would ever approve of any of his lovers, including his yet-unfound mate. All things considered, his world was rather lovely. And so of course, it had to be uprooted and thrown into chaos.

It was a freak coincidence, Draco deciding to leave the cemetery to wander the streets when he did. If he had made his decision a minute earlier or later than he had, they might never have met. As it was, he was walking down Willesden Lane, minding his own business and thinking about nothing in particular, when he was suddenly hit by a wall of scent that nearly knocked him down. He was dizzy and giddy and absolutely un-Malfoy. He had to grab ahold of the nearest window sill just to stay upright. He momentarily lost complete control of his senses. The iron grip he had been holding on his pheromones lately fell away and three passers-by fainted from the force of it. Draco took a deep breath to calm himself. If he wasn't careful, he would be a complete fool of himself. He reigned in his pheromones and strengthened his grip on them. They were fighting like mad to burst forth and pull in his mate. But no, whoever his mate turned out to be, Draco was not going to win him by drugging him on veela magic.

Draco turned to the source of the scent and tracked it to a group walking away on the other side of the street. _He _was in that group of boisterous redheads. Draco watched them, trying to think what he might do, and was immensely surprised to see Potter laughing among them, arm slung around… Weasley? He began to follow them, somewhat disoriented still, but that would relax when he touched _him_. He could see all the Weasley men in the group, but he had thought he had eliminated all of them.

And then a thought hit him like a bludger to the head. He hadn't seen the Weasel since he'd left Hogwarts. He had talked about him with Potter, but never been in the same room with him. It suddenly all made sense, why he was so drawn to Potter after Potter's visits to Egypt, why he reacted so strongly to Justin when they made love in Weasley's room, why he had worked so hard to make Molly like him. His heart began to speed up and anger suddenly assailed him, causing him to sway slightly. Potter was touching his mate. Holy Fuck, the _Weasel_ was his mate! _Nothing could just be easy, could it?_ he mused as he followed them into a pub.

He planned to sequester a table in the corner in order to better decide a plan of action when he was startled by his name being called. Potter was grinning and flagging him over. Smiling to himself, he went to the summons, eyeing Weasley the whole way. "Evening, Potter."

Potter rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. It was clear by the smell of him that this was not the first pub they had visited. "No need to be so stiff. Come and sit with us. I haven't seen you in a while. Guys, you remember Draco." The group nodded, eyeing him warily. He had not spoken to any of the Weasleys since he had broken things off with the traitor two years ago, but he was too distracted by Ron to feel the awkwardness he should have. They all took their seats and Draco made sure to maneuver himself between Potter and Weasley. "You've met everyone, right, Malfoy? Except maybe Hermione's husband, Nigel?" He indicated the studious man seated next to Granger and they exchanged nods.

"I have. Lovely to see you all again." After a few minutes and a round of drinks, the group broke off into smaller conversations. Draco's heart was beating so quickly he was certain it would beat right out of his chest, and he was beginning to get a bit dizzy again. He needed to speak to Weasley, to touch him. So he slid his hand over the redhead's nonchalantly and Ron's eyes finally met his fully. A flood of warmth spread through Draco, like drinking hot chocolate on the coldest night of the year. His breath caught, and he saw that Ron's did as well. He smiled what he hoped wasn't the dopiest, love-silly smile in the entire universe and calmly enquired after Ron's health, praying that the internal bliss he felt at touching his mate was hidden from notice. When Ron answered civilly, Draco took it as a positive and began to flirt, allowing his hand to move comfortably to his thigh. Ron didn't move away, although he seemed a bit wary of Draco. The conversation was light and flirty and it served to quell Draco's nerves.

The warmth from touching his mate that continued to spread through his body didn't hurt. He felt as though there was nothing in the world that could ever hurt him again now that he had finally found his mate. How could anything possibly go wrong ever again? It wasn't until half-way through the evening that Draco found out that indeed loads of things could still go wrong.

"Why are you touching me? Why are you flirting with me? Draco, we don't even get along." Ron's voice was a whisper and he glanced around the table to make sure that no one was listening to them.

"Maybe I'd like to change that. It's been nearly ten years since we were at school together. Don't you think it's time to stop fighting?"

"Doesn't explain the touching or the flirting. How do you know I'm gay?"

"Potter told me ages ago. It's not important anyway. You would have pulled away from me if you weren't interested."

"And the touching?"

"I would have thought that obvious. You're gorgeous and I want to go home with you."

"And it never occurred to you that I might already be with someone?"

Draco's heart plummeted further. That scenario had never even entered his wildest imagination. _Fuck_. He shut his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Weasley tried to move his hand, but he tightened his grip. "It had not actually occurred to me that you would be attached. You aren't, are you?"

"Yes, in fact, I am. And I would appreciate it if you backed off."

Draco did no such thing. "Been with him long?"

"Two years."

"And it's… serious?" He nearly stuttered, not noticing that he'd begun to tremble.

"Yes, it is. Very serious."

The blond looked away, trying to maintain his calm. "Of course, I apologize." A cold feeling began to spread outwards from his head, and he barely noticed Harry, who had been in a separate conversation, put a hand on his arm.

"Draco, you okay? You look like you've just seen a ghost." Draco's head was already pushing in too many different directions to process what seeing a ghost had to do with anything.

"I think I should leave. I'll see you around, Potter, Weasleys." He stood shakily and made for the door, thinking he needed Smith, needed some sort of support, that he would Apparate as soon as he was outside and Muggles be damned. Only he was lost in a sea of black before he made it to the door.

/

"Draco!" Harry shouted, jumping into action as soon as he saw the blond falter. He managed to catch him before he hit the floor, but only just. The girls were both out of their chairs and surrounding him in a moment, tittering on about getting him to a chair. There was a brief argument about whether or not it was a good idea to take him to Harry's before it was decided that the best course of action was to lay him down, as all attempts to revive him by magic (and shaking on Harry's part) were unsuccessful. The twins and Nigel were left to settle the tab while the rest brought him to Harry's flat and laid him in the spare room. Harry got a cold flannel for his forehead and the others huddled around the bed.

"What happened? What'd you do, Harry?" Charlie asked, looking cross.

"Nothing! I just asked if he was all right. He looked pale." Harry exclaimed defensively.

"He is pale," muttered Ron.

"Paler than usual! Like a corpse! You were the one talking to him, Ron. What were you talking about?"

Ron looked surly and turned away. "The stupid ferret was trying to get in my trousers."

"And why is zat a reason to be cross? You are attractive, no?"

"I'm also with someone! And he took a while to grasp the concept. And then he started shaking a bit and then he turned deathly pale, like Harry said."

Fleur knitted her brows together and looked down at Draco's limp form. "Zat is an odd way to act when one tells you 'no', no?"

"Probably went into shock. Doubt he's used to the word."

"Especially with sex. He almost got _me_ in bed with him with that magic of his," Harry muttered.

"Magic? Do you mean ze veela magic? I had forgotten zat he was a veela."

"And he passed out when Ron rejected him?" piped in Hermione, the same pensive expression on her face.

"Zat is… very interesting." She and Hermione locked eyes as if they understood one another, a rare and mysterious thing even without all this Malfoy-passing-out business.

"Why don't we go into the kitchen for tea? I'm sure the others are here now. We can go over it again, try to figure out what happened."

"Good idea, come along Harry, Charlie, Bill." Fleur ushered them out. Ron went to follow, but Hermione halted him.

"Maybe you should try again, since it must have been something in that conversation that triggered the reaction." Hermione had him closed in before he could argue that that was nonsense, and he turned to look at the bed with a sigh.

"Great, I get stuck knocking up the Great Ponce." He approached the bed cautiously and looked down at his school rival. The little ferret did look pretty bad, all pale and clammy. Maybe he had a fever? Ron had an inexplicable flicker of worry and pressed the back of his hand to the blond's forehead. An odd warming sensation spread through him. He was surprised to find gray eyes looking up at him, somewhat groggy, but generally aware of their surroundings. "I'll get Hermione. She wanted me to wake you up." He moved to do just that, but found his hand caught in Draco's.

"Don't, not yet. I need to talk to you for a moment."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "I think you've said plenty already."

The blond looked as though his words were a physical blow. "Please? It's important." Ron gestured him silently to go on. "Potter's told you I'm a veela, I know. I'm never quite sure what that means about me as a person, but I do know that a veela's purpose is to find a mate and spend the rest of his life taking care of that mate. It's a compulsion; we have to or we spend our lives searching. I've been looking for eight years."

The redhead interrupted, impatient to get away. His hand was tingling in Draco's and though it felt pleasant, it made him uncomfortable. "What does this have to do with me?"

"Everything. You're it. You're my mate."

Ron stared at him in stunned silence for several minutes before bursting into laughter. "You know, you've pulled some right stupid pranks in the past, but this has got to be the worst. I'm with someone, it's serious. I don't want to shag you, now sod off." He turned, angry now, but Draco held onto his hand and moved onto his knees on the bed to be closer to eye level.

"This is no prank. You don't feel that tingling, warm sensation in your hand? This is real, I'm absolutely certain."

"How do I know that isn't just your magic?"

"My pheromones you mean? I've got complete control of them. Do you feel any need to impress me? Shag me? It isn't much different between half and full veela. This isn't the same as passing a random veela, is it?"

It wasn't, but Ron was not about to admit such a thing to Draco Malfoy. Instead he shook his head obstinately and pulled away, warmth instantly fading, and left the room. All conversation stopped when he entered the kitchen and they all looked at him with guilt, as if they knew something he didn't. "I'm going for a walk. The ferret's awake if you want to see him." Hermione and Fleur started protests, but he was out the back door before they could finish.

/

Smith's last exam was finally finished, and he stacked it on top of the others with a sense of accomplishment. Overall, his students had done well. He smiled to himself and looked around the study to the clock, only to discover that it was past midnight and Draco still wasn't home. He frowned and got up to look for him, thinking that perhaps he hadn't heard him come in. The flat was empty. He went to the Floo and fire-called the Manor, hoping that perhaps Draco had decided to spend the night at his family home. He did that on occasion, but usually told Smith of his plans. It was very unusual for Smith not to know where he was. Barnaby the house-elf appeared at his call, looking worried. "Mister Smith, is you looking for Master Draco?"

"I am. He didn't come home from his walk. Is he there?"

The elf looked worried and rung his hands together. "He is with Mistress. Master is being very upset."

Smith's relief mixed with worry. Why would Draco be upset? What could have made him so upset that he would go directly to his mother without telling Smith where he was going? "I'm coming through," he said before pulling back so he could bodily Floo to the Manor. The elf was still standing at the hearth, now ringing the edge of his tea towel in his hands. "What happened?"

"Master Draco is saying that he is finding his mate and his mate is not wanting him. He is not stopping crying. Mistress is very upset."

Smith's heart stopped. He had known this day would come, but why did it have to be now? What was he going to do? He wasn't ready to be without Draco yet. In the back of his mind, a voice reminded him that he was in love, despite his best efforts to convince himself not to be. He was in love and he was going to have his heart broken. "Where are they? Can you take me to them, please?"

"Yes, Mister Smith. They is this way." The little elf turned on his heel, looking relieved that the burden of a hysterical Draco was off his hands, and took Smith through the labyrinth of the Manor, up several staircases and down several corridors, until they stopped in front of two elaborate doors Smith had never seen before. Granted, there was a great deal of the Manor Smith had yet to see despite his bi-monthly, and sometimes weekly, visits, so he wasn't surprised. There was silence behind it, but a voice he recognized as Narcissa's beckoned him in when he knocked. The scene inside was rather like what he had imagined. Draco was on the bed, face tear-streaked and half-buried in his mother's shoulder. Narcissa sat next him, holding him in her arms as though he were a child again. Only Narcissa looked up when Smith entered.

"Oh, Smith, darling, I'm so happy you've come. The worst possible thing has happened. Draco needs you."

Smith went over without further explanation and wrapped his arms around Draco, who immediately cried out as though in physical pain and shrunk from him. "Draco? What's the matter? What happened?"

"It hurts. Your touch hurts. Don't… don't touch me, please. Just stay there." When Smith finally saw his red-rimmed gray eyes, the despair in them broke his heart. "I'm sorry, but I don't think you can touch me anymore. I've… I've found my… my… my mate. And he doesn't want me." Draco fell apart all over again and buried his face back in his mother's shoulder. Smith looked to Narcissa with alarm. How could anyone not want Draco? He was the most lovely person in the world.

"It's Ronald Weasley. He told Draco that he was in a serious relationship and that he wanted Draco to stay away from him. Draco tried to explain the situation to him, but he walked out."

"It hurts so much…" Draco whispered, clinging to his mother. Smith had never seen him this shaken-up before, not even the night he found out about Justin, and that had been terrible. He looked like a disaster.

"What can I do for you?" He knew what he wanted to do. Kick this Ron Weasley's ass.

"Hold me. But you can't because it hurts. Just sit with me, please?"

"All right, baby. Whatever you want." He went to brush the messy blond fringe from Draco's face, but stopped half-way there. Suddenly, he felt very, very helpless.

/

Ron found himself in front of Harry's flat again and stared at the buzzer for several minutes. Surely, Malfoy would have gone by now, and hopefully the others with him. He didn't want to talk to Fleur and Hermione just then. When he finally hit the buzzer, Harry's voice told him that no one was there, a relief. He quickly found himself sitting on Harry's sofa while Harry was in the kitchen making tea. "I don't understand this. How could Draco Malfoy believe I'm his mate? We don't even get along."

"When was the last time you actually spoke to him, Ron? You haven't seen him since school and you are both totally different people now. He could be exactly what you want in a partner, and given the mating situation, it seems more than likely that he is."

"Or he could be the same little bastard he's always been."

"Growing up with Muggles, you know I know very little about veela and their nature, but I've got the impression that even if he was a little bastard—and he isn't, at least not from my experience—he would never be one to you. Don't veela love their mates unconditionally?"

"In theory. I don't know about Malfoy veela, though. Look at Lucius. He was a monster. Draco could be like that."

"But he isn't. From everything I've seen, and that's a lot more than you know about, he's as self-involved as ever, but he isn't cruel or mean. He's actually kind of… funny."

Ron didn't respond, just stared at the moving photo of Hermione and Nigel sitting on the coffee table in front of him. "I can't leave Franck."

"Don't you think you should at least tell him about the situation? He has veela heritage, doesn't he? I mean, he's a cousin of Fleur's, so of course he does. Maybe he'll understand."

He nodded absently and sipped the tea Harry had placed in his hands half-way through their conversation. "Can I sleep on the sofa for a few hours before I go to France? I'm too exhausted not to splinch myself from here to Calais."

"Yeah, of course. Take all the time you need. I have to be out by five, but you know how to set the wards."

"You're going on a mission? You just got back."

Harry shrugged and gave him a funny half-smile. "I'm saving up for something." He didn't elaborate, just bid Ron a good night and went into his bedroom. Ron finished his tea and sent it to the kitchen. He summoned a blanket and pillow and lay down with his feet hanging off the end of the sofa. It was near dawn before he fell asleep.

Ron woke mid-morning and made his way from London to Beauxbatons, Apparating first to Dover, then after a brief rest to Calais, then to Beauxbatons, where he had to lean against a tree to catch his breath before heading up to the school. The older students all recognized him as he often came and went, and a few of the girls giggled behind their hands before informing him that Franck (Professor Delacour to them) was just finishing his last lesson before lunch. Ron thanked them in his appalling French and made his way to Franck's rooms to wait for him. Even if Franck had planned to lunch in the hall with the other professors and students, Ron was sure the rumor mill would direct him to his visitor. He waited nervously, fumbling with a letter opener on Franck's desk and nearly slicing a student's essay in half.

"Mon Coeur, what are you doing 'ere? I zought you were wiz your family for your brozer's birsday." Smiling, Franck walked over to his desk, slid his arms around his fumbling lover, and kissed him deeply. "Not zat I am not 'appy to see you."

Ron hesitated, thoughts running rampant through his head. He loved this man so much; how could he leave him for the likes of Malfoy? Despite what Harry and Fleur and Hermione and Malfoy had all said about them being soul mates, Ron didn't _like_ Malfoy. He might have had a curiosity about the veela over the years and he might think the bloke was gorgeous and the warmth he felt when Malfoy touched him might have filled some hole in the deepest recesses of his heart, but Ron didn't think he could honestly be with him. And so he made a decision, one he might come to regret later, but that would be later. Right now, all he wanted to do was be with Franck. "I just wanted to see you," he said with a smile.

Franck beamed at him and kissed him again. "I am 'appy zat you came. I 'ave missed you much."

"I missed you, too." They had a quiet lunch together and Ron's mind settled a little. He had made the right decision not to tell Franck. He didn't want to live without this man, not when he was so in love with him. He was further convinced by the intense kiss they shared right before Franck left for his afternoon classes.

/

Draco opened his eyes to the worried face of his personal house-elf, Tinker. Tinker had been trying to ply him with food and baths for days, but Draco had just not been able to find the energy to do anything but cry. He was tired of crying. He was tired of the constant dull pain that ran through his body, tired of the doubting, the frustration, and the despair. He needed to get over this, if that was even possible. He decided it was high time he stopped wallowing in his own pain and cleaned himself up. He would never convince Ron to be with him if he died in bed in a puddle of his own filth. He sat up, waiting a moment for the dizziness to wear off before speaking. "Good morning, Tinker. I think I'd like a bath today. And tell the kitchen elves I would like a full breakfast spread." He stood on wobbly legs, steadied, then walked to the bathroom.

Once he had bathed, he sat down at his writing desk to pen a few owls. MacMillan would need to be told of this new development. Draco knew that there were forms that would need to be filed, for real this time, and that Ron was not going to agree to come to the Ministry with him any time soon. The soak in the bath had done him a world of good, he decided, because now he could think of his Ron without feeling the uncontrollable urge to cry. It still hurt, though, both physically as well as mentally, knowing that his mate did not want to share his life with him. Draco had spent much of his time in the bath scheming up ways to win Ron's heart, but he had ultimately decided that he did not want his mate through trickery. He did not want to have to bombard Ron with pheromones until he stripped naked and threw himself at Draco. He wanted his mate to come to him freely and of his own will. It was an odd desire, especially coming from someone like him, who was used to getting his way no matter what.

He shrugged his shoulders to himself and finished his letter to MacMillan, only to write another to Harry Potter. He was going to need a purpose in life if he was going to have to survive without his mate for any length of time and keep his mother alive as well. He could already see the strain in her, trying to cheer him up when she was already so lost in despair herself. She was still fast asleep in fact, too exhausted to have even stirred when he had awoken that morning. He could see her, curled into the pillows next to the indentation he had left, where she had been for the last week in a vain effort to help him. He turned back to his writing desk and wrote a short note to Potter, requesting a lunch date to discuss the possibility of taking in Severus once again. He hoped that Potter felt sorry enough for him to say yes this time.

/

MacMillan –

I have found my mate. He is Ronald Weasley. He has refused me, claiming that he is in love with another man and that he does not want to leave that man. What am I going to do? I can't breathe without him. I don't know how to function. I have not left my bed in three days and I cannot stop crying. I have never needed something as badly as I need him. Smith has been trying to comfort me, but his touch is like a branding iron. Is that normal? Is there any way to stop this reaction? A potion, perhaps? Please, help me.

I know that Ron must register with the Ministry, but I do not think he will consent to come with me to do so. Would you be so kind as to send him the forms? Could you also include a copy of all of the paperwork I have submitted to the Ministry over the past several years? It is not much, but I hope that if he reads them, he might be able to understand me better, and possibly change his mind.

Thank you,

Draco Malfoy

PS: I have enclosed my usual form. Will the form be changing now that I have definitely found my mate or will his refusal to be with me effect the change?

**Form:** 83352739

**Name:** Draco Malfoy

**Registry Number:** 625369

**Date:** 8 July 2006

**Age:** 26

**Mate:** Ronald Weasley

**Current Location:** London, England

**Number of Sexual Encounter(s):** 1

**Name(s) of Partner(s):** Smith Michael 1(M)

**Age(s) of Partner(s):** 30

**Species of Partner(s):** wizard

**Description of Sexual Encounter(s):** I do not wish to think about it. I care deeply for Smith, but I can no longer think about having sex with anyone but my mate.

**Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s)?:** No

**If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects?: **

**Did any encounter result in pregnancy?:**

**Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate?:** No

**If so, how and why?:**

**Comments:** How could I have ever thought Justin was my mate? My devotion to Ron is on an entirely different level. It's nearly overwhelming. I have moments where I can't breathe for the pain of not having him near me. How am I ever going to survive if he continues to refuse me?

/

Ron felt more normal now that he was back in Egypt. It was strange to consider. When he had first come to Egypt, he had felt like a foreigner and had missed home so much that it made him depressed some times, but now after so many years, it was home. After the debacle with Malfoy at Charlie's birthday do and all the guilt and indecision he had been feeling since, coming home to Egypt was even more comforting than normal. Here he could breathe, and he didn't have to think about his family or Malfoy or what it might mean to be a veela's mate. Or at least, that was what he had hoped would happen until the package arrived the day after his return just as he was coming back from work.

A large British Ministry owl was perched next to his barn owl, Lysander, when he arrived home. As soon as he walked in the door, the owl flew to him and deposited a thick roll of scrolls into his hands. He untied the scroll to find a Ministry-issue letter atop what looked to be over a hundred forms, filled out in a tall, elegant hand. Ron sat down to read and possibly understand what this was all about.

_Ernest MacMillan_

_Ministry of Magic_

_Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures_

_Level 4_

_Dear Ronald Weasley,_

_The Ministry of Magic wishes first and foremost to congratulate you on the discovery of your mating to Draco Malfoy. To be a veela's mate is a great honor. It has come to the Ministry's attention via Mr. Malfoy himself that it is possible that you do not understand the extent of this gift, and it is by his request that a copy of all records regarding Mr. Malfoy be forwarded to you along with information that you will need to know. Enclosed are copies of the form Mr. Malfoy has been required to file with the Ministry since 2001. Mr. Malfoy has requested that you read them so as to make a more informed decision._

_Along with these forms, it is the duty of the Ministry to inform you of the legal issues that accompany becoming the mate of a veela. You are required to register with the Ministry of Registration and Control of Magical Creatures as Mr. Malfoy's mate. This requirement is in place regardless of whether or not you choose to remain with Mr. Malfoy. The necessary forms are included in the enclosed paperwork. Please return the completed forms to the Ministry within three business days._

_If you decide to bond with Mr. Malfoy, the Ministry will need to be informed once the blood bond has been completed. I would normally leave this in Mr. Malfoy's hands, but as he has a tendency to 'forget' certain rules he dislikes, I think it best to leave this to you._

_If you have any further questions, please do not hesitate to ask by return owl. _

_Thank you and good day,_

_Ernest MacMillan_

_Head of Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures_

_Ministry of Magic_

_E.M._

Under a ward only deactivated by Ron's touch was a post script.

_PS- Are you insane? Bloody fuck, he's a fucking veela, Ron. He's gorgeous and a phenomenal lover, not to mention that he's anticipated you for so long he's going to worship you for at least six months, only to dull down to a devotion and love for you for the rest of his life. Sodding shag him already before he cries himself into a state like his mother and I have to deal with him._

Ron raised an eyebrow at this. He didn't think he had ever known Ernie to swear, at least not since he nearly missed his Arithmancy NEWT exam because he was too busy studying for it. With this in mind, he turned to the forms. In the first he was surprised to see that Draco had been with Ernie himself. That must have been how Ernie knew Draco was a fantastic shag. Ron liked that Draco was rather sarcastic and biting in his dislike of having to be monitored. Reading about Justin was interesting. Ron had told himself that perhaps Draco hadn't really been in love with him, and that was how it was so easy for him to cheat, but the forms told a different story. Since then, the forms were more subdued. He had been steady with this Smith bloke; it was clear he loved him, but also that Smith wasn't Draco's mate. When questions started popping up—Is this normal? What's wrong with me? Is there any way to dull this ache? I'm tired of waking discontent. Will he ever show himself? Am I dysfunctional? This hurts; why can't I find him?—Ron became uneasy. Draco physically hurt without him. He had not expected that. It made his decision even harder.

He sighed in frustration, rubbing his palms over his eyes to soothe the strain. He let the forms fall to the ground, weary of all the reading. Had he made the right decision by denying Draco or was he just stalling the inevitable?

/

"Potter, my mother and I owe the man our lives. Please let me do this. It's the only thing that will keep me sane and relatively healthy until Ron decides not to be with that… person anymore."

Harry sighed and rubbed his nose as he thought. After a long moment, he nodded. "Fine, you can have him, but I will be making weekly visits to make sure you're keeping your promise. He has to be monitored twenty-four hours a day, do you hear me?"

Draco beamed at him, setting his heart a flutter and catching the waiter mid-step, causing him to drop a tray of dirty dishes near their table. "Thank you. I'll take care of him. He won't have a wand and the wards will ensure he doesn't leave, I promise." His eyes went a little glassy then and darted to the door. Harry looked over to see Ron standing, waiting to be seated. He saw them and his eyes grew wide in surprise and possibly scorn. He didn't even wait for the hostess to seat him before heading over to their table.

"Harry, what are you doing here with Malfoy?"

"Draco invited me to lunch. What are you doing here?"

"Meeting Hermione and Nigel. She said she tried to contact you."

There was an awkward silence after Ron spoke, Ron looking uncomfortable because Draco would not stop looking at him as though he wanted to devour him. The blond broke the silence. "You look wonderful, Ron. I hope you're doing well."

"I'm fine," Ron retorted rather tersely. Draco was still staring at him with that slightly drunken eye.

"Did you receive the forms I had MacMillan send to you?"

"Yeah, I sent back the ones I had to."

"I don't suppose you've reconsidered, then?" His hand slid into Ron's, causing that tingling warmth to spread through them both again. Ron coughed awkwardly and pulled away, tucking his hands in his pockets. Draco looked visibly wounded.

Harry gave Ron a chastising look fit for Hermione. "Ron…" But he was cut off by the blond, who shook away the pained look and hid it behind a mask of cool indifference.

"Nevermind, Harry. He has already made his decision against me. Let's not keep him from his lunch date; I believe I see Mr. and Mrs. Griffith at the door now." They both looked over and there stood Hermione, shaking the rain droplets from her hair. Nigel stood behind her, spelling their umbrella dry with a flick of his wand. Ron murmured a farewell and, with a hasty glance at Draco that might have been regret, went to join them.

"He'll come around, don't worry. He's just being stubborn." Harry's eyes drifted back to Draco. The blond sat stiff in his chair, back straight, fingers clenched on the edge of the table, jaw set. Harry recognized the restrained pain in his face and the strength it took to stay in his seat and not fall to pieces. He had felt that same strain when Sirius had died, and then again with Ginny. It was pain beyond comprehension, and there was nothing Harry could do for him. Except there was.

"I'll get the paperwork started for Snape on Monday."

Draco's eyes shifted from his untouched salad to Harry, a faint glimmer of hope just sparking. "Thank you." His voice was raspy, as though he were fighting tears, though Harry saw no evidence of them on his face.

"I'm serious about the conditions. I'm going to check in every week. All of your promised stipulations will have to be in place. No wand, there need to be anti-Apparition wards around the Manor, he'll be making potions for St. Mungo's. And there will be a probationary period of six months. If anything—and I mean _anything_—goes wrong, he goes straight back. No second chances."

"Of course. We will make sure that every precaution is set in place. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me." Draco took his hand across the table, his own fingers trembling.

Harry squeezed them reassuringly. "I know what you're going through. I threw myself into work when Ginny died. If I hadn't had work to distract me, I don't think I would have made it. I know Ron isn't dead, but I see the same pain in you, like you're under a mild _Cruciatus_ all the time, right?"

Draco looked at him as though he were a new species. "Yes, that's it exactly."

"It'll get better. You're half-way there just managing to get out of bed and out of the house."

Draco snorted, some of the tension leaving him until his eyes darted back to where Ron sat with Hermione and Nigel. Harry glanced over and caught Ron's eyes flashing to them, too. Ron was being stubborn, but Harry knew he wouldn't last. Franck was great and all, and Harry knew they loved each other, but Harry didn't think Ron would be able to resist Draco for very long. The blond had a way of getting what he wanted, even if he didn't seem to be using his veela allure this time. "I'm doing it for him," Draco confessed, shaking Harry from his thoughts. "I didn't get out of bed for a week after I left your place. I don't think I even thanked you for helping me. I… I know we don't always see eye-to-eye, but I… I appreciate what you've done for me, Potter. You're a better friend than I ever gave you credit for."

Harry stared at him, trying to process what he had just said. This might have been the most sincere and serious Harry had ever seen Draco, outside of the incident on the Tower so many years ago. He smiled to break the mood, uncomfortable with the earnestness of Draco's stare. Draco smiled in return, though it was small and didn't make it all the way to his eyes. They darted once more to Ron, then back to Harry. "I'm glad we've got over our differences, too, Draco. You're a good man, and I'm going to do everything in my power to convince Ron to be with you."

"Thank you."

The rest of the meal consisted of thrashing out the details of Snape's release. Draco's attention wasn't fully on Harry, Harry could tell. He spent far too much of the rest of their meal keeping track of Ron's movements from across the room, but Harry couldn't fault him. He was distracted himself, trying to grapple with the knowledge that he was releasing the man he hated most in this world into the comfort and care of trusted friends. Harry still wasn't sure Snape deserved it, but he knew that Draco and Narcissa needed Snape enough to let the former pass.


	17. Chapter 17

**Title:** Department of Magical Creatures Case #645369

**Author:** feltonxmalfoy

**Beta:** domtheknight

**Pairing:** DM/RW (eventually), DM/EM, DM/SF, DM/TH, DM/JFF, DM/multipleOMC's, RW/3OMC's, HG/OMC, BW/FD

**Chapter:** Seventeen

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** slash, swearing, sexual acts (but no details for now)

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** At 21, Draco Malfoy is on a journey to find his life mate, but is delayed by pesky Hufflepuffs screaming 'regulations' and 'laws'. Please, Malfoys play by their own rules.

**

* * *

**

My Dearest Ronald,

I know that you are otherwise engaged, but I hope you do not mind my writing to you. As there is not one minute of the day when I do not think about you and wish you were with me, I find I am quite incapable of keeping myself silent. It might sound silly or insane, but I miss you. Sometimes I miss you so badly I can barely stand for the pain of your absence. I do wish you would reconsider. However, if you choose not to, then I shall instead tell you what you are missing in the hopes that you will one day be persuaded. You do not have to write back to me, but if you choose to do so, I would be grateful. I wish to know you, to really know you, and not just what I remember from school or what Harry tells me. You are my raison d'être. I wish to know everything about you.

I have moved back to the Manor with my mother. You have not indicated if you have actually read any of my paperwork, so I do not know what you know about me. Before I saw you and realized what you were to me, I was in a steady relationship with an American named Smith Michael. I have shared a flat with Smith for the past two years, but now that I know of you, it no longer feels right. I do not wish to be with anyone but you. In fact, my body will not let me be with anyone but you, even if I desired to do so. Whenever Smith touches me, my skin feels as though it were burning. It has caused us both a great deal of trouble as he wishes to comfort me in my despair, but cannot. I love him very much and wish there was something I could do, but I know I have broken his heart just as you have chosen to break mine. I only wish there was something I could do to make the situation better, but I know that without going back to him, it will never be better. And I cannot do that while there is still the hope of you.

I have not lived in the Manor since the summer after the War was ended, but it has little changed. The Dark has been eradicated, but Mother has insisted that everything stays the same. I spend most of my day taking care of Mother, who is in a worse condition than I am, having lost my father forever. I worry that I will be like her some day, weak and sick with sadness, incapable of really being happy again. Thanks to Harry's assistance, we shall both soon have a distraction from our sorrow. I do not know if Harry has told you, but he has agreed to release Severus Snape into our custody so that he may complete his sentence under house arrest. We are working hard to prepare his rooms and to supply the potions laboratory for his use. We are both excited for his coming, even though we know it will be a struggle to pull him out of whatever dark place years in Azkaban has put him in. I hope his coming will help all three of us.

I hope you are doing well. Harry has told me that you have returned to Egypt. I hope you are happy there and that you enjoy your work. I would love to know more about what you do, if you would be willing to tell me. I would like to know more about any aspect of your life you would like to tell me, even if that includes information about I find I cannot finish that last sentence, so I will withdraw it. I would like to know anything you would like to tell me. Anything at all.

Before I leave you, I wish you to know that though it might seem so from my words, I do not fault you your choice. I do understand your desire to stay with the person you love rather than leave him for a stranger you only remember disliking, but I still so desperately wish things were different. You may only remember the nasty, spoiled child I once was, but I promise that I am no longer that child. I will love you with more passion and loyalty than any other person on earth is capable of doing. I am willing to do absolutely anything to ensure your happiness, including standing by while you love another. I will never mistreat you, judge you, laugh at you, lie to you, stray from you, or leave you. I will always be yours, even if you do not want me. Can your partner promise these things? Until I write again.

Yours eternally,

Draco

/

Ron sighed and shoved the letter into his pocket, ignoring Seth's inquisitive look. He had not told Seth about Malfoy yet, but he had a feeling he knew what his employer and friend would say. "Is the passage clear yet?" he asked.

Seth ignored his question. "That was not a bird I have seen before, but it was very beautiful."

"Yeah," Ron murmured, looking towards the workers clearing sand from the tomb entry so that he didn't have to look at Seth.

"Such a beautiful bird must have a special owner."

Ron snorted. "He's special all right."

"It was not from Mr. Franck, I think."

"No, not Franck."

"A new young gentleman, then?"

"No. Just…" He sighed and turned to Seth. There was no way Seth was letting this go, he knew. When Ron had agreed to apply for this position, he'd had no idea he was going to be working for such a busy body. "You're going to make me tell you, aren't you?"

"Is there a reason you would not want to tell me?"

"No, I just… I'm not really keen on thinking about it, yeah? You know how I went to England a few weeks ago for my brother's birthday do?" Seth nodded. "Well, we ran into an old schoolmate, Draco Malfoy. We never really got on, but Harry's mates with him now, er… friends, I mean. I hadn't seen him in probably ten years, but I know loads about him through Harry. Anyway, he's half-veela and now he's trying to tell me I'm his mate. He wants me to leave Franck and be with him. The owl's from him."

Seth raised an eyebrow. "You do not believe him?"

"Why should I? He's a git. He's never done anything nice for me and up until I saw him a few weeks ago, we hated each other."

"But he is a veela."

"So?"

Seth rested his large hands on Ron's shoulders, weighing him down and forcing him to make eye contact with his mentor and friend. "Do you remember the first day we met?"

"'Course I do," Ron said, confused. What did their first meeting have to do with Malfoy?

"Do you remember when we were talking about why you were able to see the hieroglyphs when no one else was? It was a sign and now we know why. You are meant to be with a veela." Seth's expression was so stern and serious that it reminded him of Harry and angered him. Why was everyone siding with Malfoy?

"Look, I don't believe in fate. I don't want to be with Malfoy; I want to be with Franck. I'm in love with Franck. I'm not leaving him, full stop."

Seth backed off, nodding. "Yes, yes, you will make your own choices. I know how stubborn you can be, my friend. Have you at least spoken to your lover on this matter?"

"No. He'll leave me."

"And so you will lie to him? Do you not think he will find out in the end?"

"I…" Ron scowled. Sometimes he hated talking to Seth. He was so bloody wise. That didn't mean Ron had to listen to him.

"Nevermind. I can see that you are not open to these thoughts as of yet. Let us go and see what the progress is, yes?" Without another word, Seth led Ron over to the opening the men were working on clearing. Ron had discovered the opening the day before while searching for a private place to piss and they had dropped everything they were doing to clear the door. Now they had a line of workers hauling out dirt so that they could try to get inside. The doorway was situated in such a way that it had to be the original entrance to the tomb, and as they had been trying for three months to get the newer entrance open with no success, this might be their only way in. Ron watched the workers. The cloth sacs were filled less and less with each pass. They were close.

"Can you feel it? This is it. He's buried here, I know it," Ron murmured to Seth. Seth only shrugged and smiled the enigmatic smile that always drove Ron up the wall. Finally, a shout was called out and the workers stopped. Mahdy popped out of the narrow passage grinning from ear to ear.

"It is clear," he said in Arabic. Seth and Ron shared equally large grins and Seth instructed the workers to take a break before both followed Mahdy into the tunnel. It was dusty and narrow and all three had to light their wands to be able to see, but the doorway was clearly visible and there were markings. Markings that clearly indicated Re. As soon as Ron touched the markings, they brightened and shifted. Khaemwaset's name appeared, as did Nefertari's.

"Do you see that? This is it. I can feel how strong the magic is under my fingertips. He's here."

"I see that the reaction is stronger now that you are solidly connected with a veela."

Ron shot his mentor a glare. "Can we focus?"

"It is just an observing, yes?" Seth shifted in front of his son and began throwing diagnostic spells at the door to see what sorts of hexes might have been placed on it for protection. What the spells brought back was a jumble of nonsense that neither he nor Ron could decipher. They had no idea what the spells were, but whatever the magic was, it was strong. Much stronger than Ron had ever seen before. Without really knowing what they were breaking down, they began throwing anti-curses at the door.

Nothing worked. Ron slammed his palm against the flat of the door in frustration. The image rippled in recognition of him, but nothing else happened.

Seth patted his shoulder. "We will do research. I do not think it will be an easy job to open this door."

"You think?"

"This could be the magic syphoned from the god himself. We need to study the old magics again. Perhaps there will be a clue." Ron nodded, sighing. He felt defeated. They had been working on this project for so many years, and now they were standing in front of the answer to all their questions and they couldn't open the bloody door. "Come, we will dismiss the workers for today and go to the library. We will find a way."

"Yeah, all right." Ron followed the Egyptians out, his thoughts never leaving the stone doorway behind him.

/

Draco would have been unnerved by how long Severus remained in the bath if he had not known that it was Severus' first in eight years. He thought the man deserved an extra-long soak after that sort of misery. This did not however prevent him from barging in on Severus' privacy in order to speak with him about the house rules. "Severus, I hope you do not mind my interrupting, but I thought it best if we discussed a few things now. Do you mind?"

"What is it?" came Severus' raspy croak. Draco knew it would be weeks, if not months before the smooth scintillation of Severus' voice returned. Draco slipped into the bathroom and padded over to the vanity on bare feet. The room smelled of sandalwood and beeswax and pine needles, all scents undoubtedly used in the bath oils. He managed a genuine smile when his eyes reached Severus', pleased to see him out of a prison cell and looking well-scrubbed, if much too thin.

"As you know, a condition of your probation is that you brew certain potions for St. Mungo's, Hogwarts, and the Ministry. I have obtained several lists from these institutions of potions they desire you to brew, and took the liberty of obtaining all the necessary ingredients. The house-elves have scoured the potions laboratory on the second floor and stocked it for your use. I hope you do not mind the location. I did not think you would want to use the lab in the dungeons."

Severus' eyes shuttered closed. "No, I have had my fill of the dark and the damp."

"I thought you might. Potter told you that you are still not permitted a wand, yes?"

"He did. I do not know how he expects me to brew certain of the potions desired without one."

"I will be here to help you. All you need do is ask."

"My watcher, are you?" he scoffed.

"Yes and no. I want to help you, Severus. I owe you a great deal."

"You have given me a modicum of freedom. Consider your debt repaid."

"I don't think you'll be saying that when the house-elves are following you around everywhere you go."

"I have never paid attention to house-elves."

Draco didn't have a response, so he watched Severus instead. The lines were deeper on his face than they had been before, even with his eyes shut and his head resting on the side of the bath. His hair was so long it disappeared beneath the chest-high water. He was emaciated and so pale his skin would have glowed, had it not been dulled by malnutrition and mild dehydration. Draco wondered if the lighting was too bright for him after living for so long in such dark circumstances. He wondered a lot of things, but he knew Severus well enough not to ask. Instead he stood and walked to the edge of the tub. "I'm glad you're here, Severus. We have missed you." To his horror, Draco felt tears pool in his eyes. He cursed his over-emotionality since his rejection. The cursing did not stop the tears from falling.

"Are you crying, Draco?"

"Forget it. I've been crying like a teenage girl lately. Not much I can do about it."

"You mother informed me of your predicament. However much I dislike Mr. Weasley, I do not wish you to be troubled."

"Thank you. He's stubborn. I just have to be patient and hope I don't make a fool of myself in public in the meantime." He smiled through the tears shining in his eyes. "I'll let you relax now. I know I've probably bothered you enough as it is." He made to leave, but Severus looked sharply up at him.

"Stay. I have spent more time than I care to remember with only my demons for company. If you do not mind, I would very much like your company."

Draco nodded, understanding the need to be social after such a long isolation. He pulled the cushioned vanity stool over to the edge of the tub and sat with his toes just dipping into the warm water. "What would you like to talk about?"

Severus hesitated, taking a moment to consider the request. "Tell me what I have missed." Draco nodded and proceeded to catch his former professor up on ten years of political history, society happenings, and everything in between.

/

My Dearest Ronald,

I hope you are well. I cannot stop myself from again telling you how much I miss you and want you with me. Or rather, I wish that I were with you. I would move to Egypt to be with you, you know. Or Mongolia, the Arctic, the Amazon rainforest, wherever you needed me to be. I have these fantasies of nights in a tent together, sharing a tiny cot, our naked bodies the only thing to keep us warm. In my fantasy, you've been gone all day while I stay in our tent thinking about all the ways I want you to fuck me when you get back. When you do finally come back, I'm waiting for you completely naked. I strip you slowly of all your sweaty, dirty clothes and use a wet flannel to wash away the dirt and grime on you. Once finished, you pull me in your arms and kiss me until I can't breathe properly. You pick me up and carry me to the bed, where you smother me with your body like a warm, heavy blanket.

You're already hard when I wrap my fingers around your shaft and pump you. You're long and thick and I already can't wait to get you inside me. You take a hold of my cock as well and wrap our hands around both of them, stroking them together until I can't see straight. You like to do that, tease me until I can't stand it anymore. I pull your hair with my free hand and beg you to fuck me. You stroke us a few more times and take over my mouth in a long, intense kiss. Then you lift onto one hand and rub yourself against my hole. We don't need lube because my body already produces it, like a girl. (Didn't know I could do that, did you? I didn't either, but ever since the first time we touched, every time I think of you, my hole starts dripping.)

I moan underneath you and lift my hips closer. All I can think about is how badly I want you inside me, but you keep teasing until I scream for you to take me. Even as you enter, you're slow, pushing an inch and waiting, watching as I squirm in anticipation. I grab onto your shoulders and pull you down for a kiss and I know it's the best part of being with you. Do you remember what it feels like when we touch? All warm and soothing and perfect? Can you imagine what that will feel like when we kiss? When we're naked and pressed together? When you're sliding inside me and all either of us can think about is how wonderful and right it feels? That's what we're both feeling when you finally slide all the way home. I wrap my legs around your waist as you start to move, my fingers tangle in your hair as you suck on my bottom lip. We fall into a perfect rhythm right away, my hips lifting to meet yours. It's perfect. We're perfect.

After we're finished, I clean you up with my tongue. I can taste you in my mouth already, sharp and warm and all you. I trace a line of freckles up to your mouth and kiss you before settling into your arms. We fall asleep nestled together.

It could be like that every night. Every day. This is just one of my many fantasies. Would you like to hear more? Please let me know. I will continue to write either way, but I would do anything to hear from you.

Always yours,

Draco

/

Ron blushed so hard his face hurt. No one had ever spoken such filthy words to him before and Malfoy wasn't even present! He found himself rock hard and wishing that he wasn't. There was no easy way of skipping off to the loo for a wank when Fleur was around, even when she wasn't speaking to him, especially not with little Victoire staring up at him with big blue eyes and a smile that could melt glaciers. Not that he wanted to go and wank over Malfoy. Victoire giggled at him and pointed at his red face, bringing his brother's attention to his blush.

"Oh-ho, what's got you so hot around the collar?" Bill asked, a huge grin spread across his face.

"Nothing!" Ron snapped, quickly hiding the letter away in a pocket.

"Nice try, little brother." Bill's eyes flashed and his grin turned feral, and before Ron knew what he was about, he'd been tackled to the ground and his arms were pinned behind his back. He muttered curses under his breath and struggled against his brother's grip, but ever since Greyback, there was no matching Bill for strength. Bill just laughed in his ear and held onto his wrists tighter. "Sweetheart, get that letter from Uncle Ronnie for Daddy, will you?"

Victoire was giggling like an insane hyena as she kissed Ron's cheek and fished her little hand into his pocket and pulled out the letter. Her loud giggles were the only thing holding him back from cursing a blue streak at his brother. "Here, Daddy," she giggled, handing her father the now-crumpled parchment.

Bill shifted Ron's wrists to one hand, using his weight on Ron to keep him pinned, and unwrinkled the parchment with his free hand. "_My Dearest Ronald_—How sweet, Ronnie! Who's this from, then?— _I hope you are well. I cannot stop myself from again telling you how much I miss you and want you with me. Or rather, I wish that I were with you. I would move to Egypt to be with you, you know. Or Mongolia, the Arctic, the Amazon rainforest, wherever you needed me to be. I have these fantasies of_—" He abruptly stopped reading aloud, obviously mindful of his daughter throwing herself on top of him, still giggling like mad. There was a moment while Bill finished the letter when all Ron could do was squirm and avoid being kicked in the face by his niece. "Er…well. That's graphic. No wonder you blushed. This from Draco, then? Why are you in a tent?" Bill snorted. "He has no idea what we do, does he?"

Bill had relaxed his hold a bit as he read, just enough for Ron to twist away and throw him off. Bill fell to the side on his back, laughing at Ron's scowl. Ron punched him in the arm and sat up. "Prat. Stop calling him 'Draco' like you know him or something."

"Why are you all on ze floor? Zis is not a zoo," Fleur asked, coming in from the bedroom where she had hidden since Ron got there. They were the first words she had spoken to him since he had told her he was staying with Franck.

"Daddy lutte Oncle Ron, Mama! C'est très amusant!" Victoire squeaked, running to her mother and climbing her like a tree. Fleur sighed loudly and admonished her for being undignified, but didn't put her down.

"Why were you fighting?"

"Ron got a letter from Malfoy. A raunchy one." Bill was still grinning like the cat that got the cream, and Ron couldn't resist punching him again.

"Arrête! You are not children anymore! Zer is no wrestling in zis house!" She gave them both a glare and they cowed. "Zank you. Now, what is zis about Draco? Your mate whose 'eart you are breaking is writing you owls?"

Ron glared at her. "Sorry I wanted to stay with the man I love. You know, your cousin?"

"Oui, my part-veela cousin who I do not believe would let you do zis to another veela. I thought you were going to tell 'im ze truth."

"I did, not that it's any of your business."

Fleur stared him down, an intimidating move that had Ron lowering his eyes. "If you are going to continue to be stubborn, do not expect me to feed you." With that threat, she flounced out of the room, taking Victoire with her.

Ron scowled. "Why does she have to stick her nose in where it doesn't belong?"

"She loves you and Franck. She doesn't want either of your to be hurt or to hurt one another, which is what is inevitably going to happen. I know you don't want to hear it, but you're mated to a veela. Mated. Not married by choice, like Fleur and me. This is magic itself telling you that Draco Malfoy is the person you are meant to be with. It's only a matter of time before it happens and you know it."

"I don't want to talk about it." He snatched the letter back from his brother and tucked it into his jeans before standing. "I wish everyone would just stay out of my love life. I'll see you later." He turned on the spot and Apparated home, not waiting to hear Bill's reply. He had lost his erection sometime between reading the letter and wrestling with his brother, thankfully, so he didn't need to wank. Instead, he flopped onto the couch and spent the next hour doing his damnedest to think of nothing at all.

/

It was time to go and pick Emma up, but Harry was frozen on his sofa, ring box in his hand, staring at the ring he had saved six months to buy. It wasn't the traditional diamond because that was what he'd bought for Ginny and he had needed this proposal—this marriage to be different. Instead, he had chosen Emma's favorite color: a round pale pink stone called a kristoff that the jeweler had told him gave the wearer protection against curses. The protection wasn't perfect, but it would help him not to worry about her when he was gone on missions. He loved her and wanted her safe. He smiled to himself. He loved Emma and he was about to ask her to marry him. Two and a half years ago when he'd gone to that Christmas party, he never would have guessed that he would find the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

His smile turned into a goofy grin and he stood, snapping the box shut and hiding it in his trouser pocket, charmed to hide the telling lump. He took hold of the picnic basket and Apparated to Emma's.

She looked beautiful when she opened the door wearing a pale yellow sundress and matching flats. "Why are you smiling like that?" she asked, smiling herself. "You look like someone hit you with a cheering charm."

"Just happy to see you. You look beautiful." He leant down and kissed her. "Are you ready to go?"

"I hope so. You didn't tell me where we're going."

"I wanted to surprise you. Come here and I'll Side-Along you." He held his free hand out and she slipped under his arm, winding her arms around his waist and tucking her head under his chin. He held her close and Apparated to a grassy cliff on the coast of Dover. Emma let go and stepped away to look over the cliff at the bright blue ocean. Harry had picked a spot just close enough to the castle so that they could see it, but far enough away so that they didn't have to worry about passers-by. While she admired the view, Harry set the basket to magically unpack. By the time she'd turned back to him, the blanket was spread with lunch.

"This is such a lovely spot, Harry!" Emma gushed, turning to him with bright hazel eyes.

"It's not as lovely as you are in that dress, but I thought you would like it. Come sit down with me."

She did as he asked and folded herself onto the blanket. "Thank you, Harry. This is all so lovely. What's the occasion? Our anniversary isn't for several months."

"No occasion. I've been so busy with work lately and you've been so patient with me. I wanted to do something special for you."

She leant into him and kissed his cheek. "Thank you. You didn't have to, though. I know how busy the Aurors can get. It isn't as though you could help the workload."

Harry hesitated. He didn't want to lie to her, and now was as good a time as any to ask. He took a deep breath and smiled nervously at her. "Actually, it sort of was my fault I've been so busy. I took a few extra assignments so I could buy you something." He fished the box out of his pocket and got up on one knee facing her. Her eyes grew as big as saucers and she gasped. "Emma, I love you. You're the most beautiful person I've ever met, both inside and out, and you make me happier than anyone ever has. I can't imagine living my life without you now that I've found you. Will you marry me?" He opened the box and the stone shone in the sunlight and Emma gasped again.

"Oh Harry! I love you, too! Of course I'll marry you!" She threw herself at him and tackled him to the ground, kissing him. He laughed and kissed back, holding her tight. She began peppering his face with kisses. "I love you so much, Harry. You make me so happy, too! Can I see the ring again? It's so beautiful! And it's pink! Oh, I love it, Harry!" Harry pulled the ring from the box and slipped it onto her finger, pulled her hand to his lips for a kiss. She didn't stop gushing over it or him for the rest of lunch.

/

_He was in Azkaban; he didn't know how he knew it, but he was. It was cold and wet in his cell, and all he had for warmth was a thin night shirt. He tried the door, but it was locked from the outside and he didn't have his wand. He looked around, desperate for something to help him. He didn't deserve to be here; he hadn't done anything wrong! He knew if he stayed there too long, he would die. There was nothing in the room but a puddle in the corner and the maddening sound of water dripping slowly from the ceiling. He stood perfectly still, listening, hoping for some sort of noise that might mean rescue and freedom, but there was only the slow, constant drip. No wonder his father had gone mad in here. _

_Draco closed his eyes and prayed for salvation. He didn't want to die like his father. He had done nothing wrong, not since he was sixteen years old. All he wanted was to go home and be with his mate._

_There was a noise, heavy footsteps down the corridor. Draco scrambled to the door and tried to call out, but his voice was broken and all he could manage was a squeak. It was enough. The cover on the window in the door was pushed aside and inside the window appeared Ron's beautiful face. Draco reached for him, squeaking questions and requests for Ron's help, but Ron only began laughing at him. It filled him with horror, the sound of that laugh. It wasn't Ron. It wasn't human. And it wouldn't stop. He curled up in the corner and began to sob, somehow knowing that Ron, his Ron, wasn't going to help him. _

He awoke in a cold sweat, screaming his frustration, the cold laughter still ringing in his head. He curled onto his side and pulled his knees to his chest, his entire body riddled with pain and longing. For a minute, all he could concentrate on was the pain. He took deep breaths and tried to think about anything else but his dream and that haunting laugh. After a few minutes, the haunting voice began to fade away, only to be replaced by the faint screams of someone else. Draco sat up, confused and a little scared. He had a moment's flash-back to the summer before Sixth Year when Voldemort had moved into the Manor and the screams of his kidnap victims became a regular occurrence.

No, this wasn't Voldemort. This was Severus. Draco managed to get out of bed and pull on his dressing gown before heading down the hall the Severus' room. He didn't bother to knock before entering the room, the screams and his own pain too distracting for him to consider Severus' privacy. He found Severus cocooned in a complicated wrap of sheets and blankets, twisting about fighting to free himself. Draco grabbed onto his skinny shoulders and shook him. "Severus, calm down! You're safe!" he shouted over the screams. The man was so thin and fragile under Draco's hands that he worried he might break Severus' bones if he shook him harder. Thankfully, it wasn't necessary to do so because Severus finally awoke, eyes wild and fear plainer on his face than any emotion Draco had ever seen on him.

"Draco?" he croaked out. He tried to sit up, but the blankets were too tangled. Draco helped ease them aside. "What are you doing in my room?" Severus asked, voice still scratchy.

"You were calling out in your sleep. I heard it in my bedroom after I awoke from my own nightmare. Are you alright? Can I get you a glass of water?" He stood to do so without confirmation, but Severus shook his head.

"I'm fine. It was only an unsettling dream."

"I'll still get you some water. I would like some myself." He left Severus to collect himself while he fetched water from the adjacent bathroom. While the glasses filled with water, Draco looked at himself in the mirror. He looked terrible, skin deathly pale and dark circles under his eyes. He needed to find a way to get some sleep, but there hadn't been a night since he had found Ron when he didn't awake from a nightmare about his mate and his rejection. The evil laughter pounded through his brain, persistent and painful. The water overflowed onto his trembling hands and he quickly turned the tap off. He gulped the water from his own glass, ignorant of the dribble that ran down his night shirt. He needed to collect himself so that he could help Severus. He took a deep breath and managed to stop his hands from trembling long enough to take the water back into the bedroom without spilling.

His mother had arrived in his absence and was stroking Severus' brow and speaking quietly to him. Her presence seemed to soothe him, probably because she was using her pheromones on him. Draco could feel them tingling in the air around them. He crossed to the bed and handed Severus his water. Severus took it in both hands to keep it steady, but the force of his shaking hands still caused water to spill over the side and onto his blankets. He took a grateful drink and nodded to Draco.

"Thank you, darling. Why don't you go back to bed now? I can sit with Severus from here." His mother's voice was calm and soothing, like it used to be when he was a child. He never thought he would hear that tone again. She stroked his hand and brought it to her lips.

"Are you sure? I can stay."

"Go to bed." Her voice brooked no argument, but he stood awkwardly for a minute more, reluctant to go back to his dark room with nothing to distract him from the laughter ringing in his head. He finally bid them both good night and left the room, but he didn't go back to his own bed. He knew that there would be no sleeping any time soon. Instead, he made his way to the library and curled up in a chair by the fire to read and hopefully distract his thoughts from his estranged mate. He did not return to his bed that night.

/

Harry hadn't been to Malfoy Manor in a few months, but the outside looked just as well-tended as ever. His least favorite animal was standing at the gate, almost as though he had sensed Harry's coming and was waiting for him. The peacock peered through the wrought-iron, its beady little eye gleaming with what Harry was sure was hate. He hesitated before moving through the gates, glad when the wards still recognized him. He always worried that they would lash out at him, and the persistent peacock was bad greeting enough. The bird in question began to peck at him as soon as he was in reach.

"Stop it," Harry snapped, trying to shoo him away. The bird ignored him, trotting after him and nipping at his heels. "Bloody bird!" He yelled, kicking at it before escaping through the front door Malfoy had just opened for him.

"Hello to you, too, Harry," Malfoy said, smirking.

Harry scowled at him. "I think that peacock is possessed by your dad. He keeps trying to kill me."

"Indeed? Father did always love those birds."

Harry muttered something that sounded like bastard and took off his cloak. "Alright then?" he asked, looking Draco over. He looked tired and sad around the eyes, but the lingering amusement from Harry's frustration with his pet helped to make him look a little less haggard.

"I am as to be expected. And you?"

"I was pretty fantastic until I got attacked by that bloody peacock."

"I will have the house-elves restrain them when you come next week."

Harry gave him a once-over, noted the continued smirk, and rolled his eyes. "No, you won't. What's Snape up to?"

"Severus is brewing, I believe. I can only assume that you want to interrogate him and make sure he is not a threat to the wizarding world." He turned on the spot and beckoned for Harry to follow him down the hall.

"Sarcasm isn't very attractive on you, you know."

"Everything's attractive on me, Harry. Don't delude yourself just because you like silly women who wear too much pink."

"Watch what you say about Emma. I might not bother Ron so much about you."

Draco stopped dead and turned to face him once more. "How is he?"

"Last I heard he's fine. He's back in Egypt."

"Does he ask about me? I write him letters."

"Yeah, he mentioned those."

"He reads them, then?" His smile was so bright Harry lost his footing and had to brace his hand on the nearest wall so he didn't fall flat on his face. _Bloody veela_.

"Yeah, he does. He's still being stubborn, though."

"Oh." The hope disappeared from Draco's face and he turned to continue directing Harry to the lab. A maze of staircases and corridors later, he knocked on a wooden door, but didn't bother to wait for a reply before going in. Harry followed cautiously, waiting for the line of vitriol Snape was likely to throw at them. It never came. Snape was standing over a bubbling cauldron, face scrunched in concentration. He looked clean for once, his hair washed and cut short, but he was still much too skinny, and he wasn't wearing black. Harry blinked. He couldn't remember a time when his former professor hadn't worn black. The white cotton shirt and khaki trousers looked oddly Muggle and a little disconcerting on Snape.

"Severus, Harry is here to bother you," Draco drawled, shifting around a counter to fidget with a few bottles of potions ingredients.

Snape looked up and eyed Harry over his cauldron before going back to what he was doing. "Good afternoon, Mr. Potter. As you can see, I am complying with your mandate. This is a highly complicated batch of Wolfsbane. You'll excuse me for not stopping in the middle of the brewing cycle just to assuage your delusions of my threat to society."

"I don't think you're a threat to society, but I do need to make sure your parole conditions are being met."

"As you can see, they are. I have been under constant supervision by Draco, Narcissa, or a house-elf since entering the house. I may not even go to the lavatory without a house-elf looking in on me. I have produced several batches of potions for Hogwarts already, and this batch of Wolfsbane will be sent to St. Mungos. Are you satisfied?"

"Yes, very. Hogwarts will love the donation. Thank you." He smiled over at Draco, who was still fidgeting with the bottles and pretending as though he weren't listening even though Harry knew he was. "Thank you, Draco."

"What else am I supposed to do with all my gold? And the children deserve a high caliber of potions. I expect the same caliber when my own children attend."

This caught Harry off guard. "Your own children? I didn't know you could give birth. Did I miss a mediWizardry course?"

Draco gave him a withering look over his shoulder. "My surrogate children, you idiot. Malfoys don't allow a little thing like homosexuality to stop us from continuing the family line."

"Does Ron know this is going to happen?"

"I haven't mentioned it in my letters yet. I was afraid it would deter him. I thought we could talk about it when he agrees to be with me. Does he not want children?"

"Subconsciously, I think he does, but he doesn't think he's meant to have them."

"Subconsciously? That's a fourteen-letter word Potter. I'm surprised you didn't break a sweat."

"Do you always have to be a prat, Draco?"

"Yes."

Harry huffed out a frustrated noise and turned to Snape. "Well, Snape, I have to say that Draco was right. Getting you out of Azkaban has definitely helped your health. You look a thousand times better than you did the last time I saw you."

"But not better than I would have looked, had you not imprisoned me in the first place."

"I don't know about that. You always wore all-black before Azkaban, made you look sickly." Harry thought it might be in bad taste to mention the hygiene change. The glare he received told him that it probably was.

"I do not believe my choice in wardrobe is any of the Ministry's business."

"It isn't, I was just commenting. Sorry."

"You'll have to excuse Potter, Severus. He hasn't been around anyone whose entire wardrobe isn't made up of a violent shade of pink in ages. I expect he's in shock."

"Emma doesn't only wear pink, and I thought I already told you to watch what you say! That's my fiancée you're talking about."

"Fiancée? How sweet, you've asked the little marshmallow to marry you. I shudder to think what the wedding will look like." Draco rolled his eyes and turned to Severus. "Would you like tea?"

"Please," Severus responded, eyes returning to the cauldron. Draco arched an eyebrow at Harry in query and Harry nodded. The blond left the room to call for a house-elf and Harry found a stool. He watched Snape work for a while, occasionally asking him a question about how he was adjusting. Snape was terse, but he answered.

/

_They were in the gardens__; the sun was shining down on them and making Ron's beautiful hair shimmer bright orange. He was his own sun, and Draco was his moon, hovering, hoping to get close but never managing. Every step closer brought him a step further away. Frustrated, he started to walk faster and then to jog. His jogging morphed into a full-blown run, but Ron only moved further away the faster he ran. Draco was exhausted, panting, barely able to put one foot in front of the other, but he knew if he could just run a little faster, he would catch his prize. _

_He tripped and fell flat on his face in the grass, the once lush green foliage now brown with wintery death. The air around him grew cold; the clouds darkened and blotted out the sun. It began to rain and then snow. Draco shivered, tried to pull himself up from the cold ground, but he couldn't move. He looked up at his love, so far away from him. The sun still shone where Ron stood, the grass was green, the flowers in bloom, the birds still singing. It was a beautiful sight, and Draco wanted nothing more than to be with him. He called out to Ron, but it was as though a sound barrier had been charmed around him. Ron heard nothing. He slowly turned from Draco and walked away. Faintly, in the distance, a man was waiting for him. He took Ron's hand and kissed him._

Draco woke up crying out Ron's name in anguish. He stared up at the canopy of his bed, panting for breath, ashamed of himself. He was crying. His pillow was soaked with tears and Draco could feel the dried, salty tracks down his cheeks, moistened by the fresh tears still falling. He lay still for a long time, composing himself and trying to settle his nerves. It was the same every night. He had tried everything from Dreamless Sleep to illegal potions only available in Knocturne Alley, but nothing had helped. All he could dream about was Ron, out of reach and with another man. He woke up crying every night and could never get back to sleep. He now knew what his mother went through, every day an effort to stay awake and sane. He did not want to think about what her dreams might look like. His mate was alive, if currently unattainable. He couldn't imagine the gruesome dreams that would haunt him if Ron were dead.

As he lay in bed, listening to the sound of his own breathing, a new sound slowly seeped through his door from the hallway. Someone else was screaming. Severus.

Draco sat up and then hurriedly got out of bed and dressed. He hoped he could get to Severus' room before his mother, but half-way down the hallway the screaming stopped. The door was shut and locked. He knocked even though he knew it was futile. Severus didn't want Draco to see him so distressed. After the first night, he had asked Narcissa to lock the door when she came to comfort him so that Draco couldn't enter and see him so distraught. Draco hated this, but he understood the desire not to lose face in front of a former pupil. Resigned to waiting outside, Draco slumped against the wall and slid down to sit just to the right of the door and wait. It wasn't as though he would be sleeping any time soon anyway.

/

**Form:** 83352739

**Name:** Draco Malfoy

**Registry Number:** 625369

**Date:** 15 sept 2006

**Age:** 26

**Mate:** Ronald Weasley

**Current Location:** London, England

**Number of Sexual Encounter(s):** 0

**Name(s) of Partner(s):**

**Age(s) of Partner(s):**

**Species of Partner(s):**

**Description of Sexual Encounter(s):** I have been unable to achieve an erection since the day my mate rejected me. I will leave this portion of the form blank from now on as I know I will never be able to allow another man to touch me again.

**Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s)?:**

**If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects?: **

**Did any encounter result in pregnancy?:**

**Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate?:** No

**If so, how and why?:**

**Comments:** I cannot bare this. I dream of him every night and awake screaming. My body is wracked with pain every minute of the day. I need him more than I need air to breathe. It is a struggle every morning to wash and dress and eat and function like a normal member of society. If this goes on much longer, I may have to see a Healer. Please, if there is anything I can do to lesson this pain, I need you to tell me. Please.


	18. Chapter 18

**Title:** Department of Magical Creatures Case #645369

**Author:** feltonxmalfoy

**Beta:** domtheknight

**Pairing:** DM/RW (eventually), DM/EM, DM/SF, DM/TH, DM/JFF, DM/multipleOMC's, RW/2OMC's, HG/OMC, BW/FD, HP/OFC

**Chapter:** Eighteen (Final)

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** slash, swearing, sexual acts (but no details for now)

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** At 21, Draco Malfoy is on a journey to find his life mate, but is delayed by pesky Hufflepuffs screaming 'regulations' and 'laws'. Please, Malfoys play by their own rules.

**A/N:** This story has been a long journey, but it is finally finished. I hope you all enjoyed the ride and thank you for staying with me. For those who want to follow Ron and Draco through their relationship, there is a sequel planned, so keep your eyes peeled for it. Enjoy!

**

* * *

**

My Dearest Ronald,

How are you? I hope you are staying safe in Egypt. Did you like my last letter? Harry says you read them; you don't know how happy that makes me. If only you would consent to see me so that we could speak in person. And possibly do the things I think about us doing. I miss you more with every day that I am away from you. Hearing Harry say that he is engaged to his little annoyance has only made me long for you more. Harry has proven to be a genuine friend, and as such I want him to be happy, but knowing that he is preparing to settle down and build his life when you still refuse to see me makes my heart ache even more than it already does. I think about you every moment of the day, waking or sleeping. I even think of you when I am helping Severus with his potions.

Severus is slowly improving, though he still has much farther to go before he is entirely healed of the suffering he experienced in Azkaban. He sleep-walks now. We find him in all manner of positions all around the estate. This morning Mother found him trying to fry an egg in the kitchen, his eyes still closed, muttering to himself. The house-elves were severely ruffled. When he isn't sleep-walking, he wakes several times a night screaming. He refuses to see me when this happens, but I know Mother is up with him most nights, trying to soothe his worry. They are healing each other this way. Both look healthier and less miserable every day. I still worry about them both, though. And all the time, I am thinking of you.

I hope I will hear from you soon. I miss you. Please stay safe for me. I couldn't bear it to know that you had been hurt, and I could not be there for you.

Your veela,

Draco

/

Ron was still holding the letter in one hand when he stuck his head in the fire and called for Harry. The flat looked empty, but Ron could hear shuffling in the direction of the bedroom, so he called louder. There were footsteps and then Harry appeared from around the corner, looking a little disheveled and very well-shagged. Ron ignored the signs of what he had been doing, too upset to care. "I have to hear about your getting engaged through Malfoy?" He demanded, not even letting Harry get a hello in first.

Harry paused, clearly confused, but then realization came to his eyes and the confusion was covered by shame. "We were planning on telling you at dinner tomorrow night. I forgot Malfoy writes you. Sorry."

Ron wasn't appeased and the look he shot Harry told him as much. "Why'd you tell Malfoy before you told me?"

"I saw him first? I see him once a week now when I go over to check on Snape. It er… just sort of came up."

Ron glared, but then he caught sight of Emma peeking around the corner, hair mussed and her make-up smudged, and he came to his senses. They had obviously just been shagging and he'd interrupted. He only felt a little guilty for that fact. "Well, congratulations, I guess. I would have liked a little heads-up, though."

Harry looked at his bare feet. "Thanks. Sorry for not saying anything. I didn't want to bother you while you've got the whole Draco situation…"

"Want to come through for a cup of tea?" Emma asked, having drifted to Harry's side. She was wearing his bathrobe and it made her look very small. Seeing her this way, Ron could almost see the appeal.

"Thanks, but I've got things to do, and you two were obviously er, busy. Sorry. I'll see you tomorrow night."

"All right, tomorrow night then."

"All right. Congratulations. See you tomorrow." Ron pulled out of the fire, feeling awkward and still a little upset. He looked down at the letter, crumpled up from his angry fist. Something about Malfoy's spidery script made him want to preserve it. He smoothed out the wrinkles and went to put it away in his office with the others, mind still on Harry and his new fiancée. Had he realized what he was doing, he probably would have just thrown it away.

After stashing the letter with the others, Ron went to his desk and back to poring over the old texts of Ancient Egyptian magic. It had been two weeks and they were still no closer to finding a way to open the stone door. They had been back to Djoser's tomb every day, trying found and invented spells, but nothing worked. The magic responded more strongly to Ron than it ever had, but even his now stronger connection to a magical creature didn't seem to be enough. If only they could find a solution, he just knew they would find Re.

/

"I 'ear congratulations are to be given, oui?" Franck said as he kissed Emma on the cheek.

"Yes! Harry and I are engaged! Isn't it wonderful?" She flashed her left hand in front of Franck's face, the pink jem glinting in the light and nearly blinding him, and grinned like she'd just won a million galleons. Ron watched Franck's face curiously, wanting to know what he thought of the engagement. Ron had considered asking Franck to marry him, but Franck always managed to change the subject when it was brought up. He looked happy for them and began asking questions about the impending ceremony.

Emma chattered on as they sat in the living room while Harry poured two glasses of wine and found two butterbeers in the cold cupboard. "We're going to have a May wedding. We've already booked the church at Godric's Hollow, and my mum and Molly are helping me plan the ceremony. We're going robe shopping next week."

"Where is zis Godric's 'Ollow?"

Emma looked a little confused and turned to Harry, who was just walking into the room holding the butterbeers while the wine glasses floated over to Franck and Emma. Ron intervened for her to explain to Franck, whose English history was spotty at best. "It's where Harry was born."

"And where my parents were married. I've always wanted to get married in the same church as they did. It's the closest I can come to having them be at the ceremony," Harry explained, handing Ron his beer before sitting next to Emma.

"It iz nice zat you would want to include your parents, even zough zey are no longer 'ere. Who will you 'ave stand wis you?"

Emma looked confused again and turned to Harry for help, but he was just as lost. Ron thought he might understand what Franck was getting at. "I think he means attendants, who you'll have as best man and maid of honor."

"Is zat what ze people who stand wis ze bride and groom at ze ceremony are called? I did not know. I 'ave never attended an English wedding before."

"Oh, of course. Sorry, I forgot. Yes, they're called attendants. I was going to have my sisters, Gemma and Laura. Harry…" She looked from Ron to Harry and smiled widely.

"I was going to ask Ron, actually. You are my best mate, after all." Harry grinned at Ron, blushing a little. He always got flustered with these situations.

Ron beamed at him. "Yeah, 'course mate. Anything you need me to do. What about Hermione?"

"I was thinking of asking her to officiate, but since it's going to be at the church, I don't know…" Emma bit her lip and turned to Harry again.

"Think we can make her a grooms… er, maid? With Ron and Neville," Harry asked, looking befuddled at the terminology.

The reaction on Emma's face was one Ron recognized from having received the same look so many times from Hermione and his mother as saying, "We'll be talking about this later, and you aren't going to like it." Thankfully, Franck recognized the look too, and quickly changed the subject before Emma had a chance to comment verbally.

Later as they prepared for bed—Ron was staying overnight at Franck's French home before taking an international Portkey home early the next morning—Ron brought the subject of the wedding back up, hoping to get more of a reaction from Franck. "So, Harry and Emma, didn't expect that one."

Franck smiled as he pulled the sheets back and slipped into bed. "I zink it is nice zat 'Arry is finally being settled. 'E needs a family."

A flash of annoyance passed through Ron's head at the implication that Franck didn't consider Harry a part of Ron's family, but he let it pass. "Yeah, I guess." He hesitated, but decided to just ask. "Would you ever want to settle down?"

Franck took his time responding, giving Ron that steady, probing look that always made Ron feel like a specimen in a jar. "I do not zink we are ready to be married yet. Neizer one of us wants to move and a long-distance marriage would not work so well as a relationship, I zink."

"But marriage _is_ a relationship."

"Not yet, mon coeur. Let us enjoy our time togezer, and we will worry about marriage later, oui?" He took Ron's hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing his lips to the skin before licking playfully between Ron's knuckles. He used his grip to pull Ron onto the bed before pulling him into a kiss. Ron let himself be distracted and fell into his lover, returning his kisses and moaning when a hand squeezed his arse.

/

Draco looked down at his breakfast and thought he might be sick. Even though croissants with cream and fresh strawberries were his favorite breakfast foods, he knew every bite would taste like nothing more than ash in his mouth. He put his fork down and sighed.

"You must eat, darling," his mother prompted from across the table. It was almost amusing to hear the words fall from her lips, him having said the exact same words to her on so many occasions he was incapable of counting them up. It was a testament to how far she had come in her own recovery that she could even notice his eating habits.

"I'm not hungry."

"You had nothing to eat yesterday. You will waste away to nothing. How will you ever win Ronald's affection if you are too weak to walk?"

Draco's throat closed at the mention of His name. He took a deep breath and reached for his fork again. She was right, of course. He had to push on if he was ever going to win his love. The croissants tasted stale on his tongue, but he ate them anyway.

Severus walked into the room just as he started in on the strawberries and cream. "Good morning," he murmured as he took the seat across from Narcissa. His coffee cup filled as soon as he turned it over and Draco watched the relief on his face as he took the first sip. At the same moment the owls arrived, depositing a neat stack of post next to Draco's serviette. Draco took the post up and sorted through it, stopping at an elegant, pale pink envelope. He stared at the envelope for a moment before it clicked in his brain as to what lay inside. He opened it and a soft female voice began singing a terrible rendition of a Lorena Lockhart song, confirming Draco's suspicion that Potter had nothing whatsoever to do with the creation of his own wedding invitations. Severus looked sharply up from his coffee. "Why is your post serenading you?"

"Harry's wedding invitation. His fiancée is insufferable. Be happy that you are not invited to the wedding. I'm certain it will be hideous and trite."

"From what you have already said of his fiancée, I do not doubt your assessment. Who will you bring as your…" Severus must have realized what he was saying at that moment because he abruptly stopped speaking and set down his fork.

Draco's finger's tightened on the invitation enough to wrinkle the fine calligraphy, but he showed no other outward sign of his distress. "I will take Mother, of course. She is named on the invitation. Would that be agreeable, Mother?" He looked to his mother, who pressed her hand onto his on the table and squeezed.

"That would be lovely, my darling. I would like to finally meet this Emma Harry speaks so highly of."

"You will not like her. She's insipid."

"Even if that is true, I will find something to like about her. She means a great deal to Harry and Harry is important to me." She blinked and looked bemusedly over at Severus. "I never would have thought that sentence could come out of my mouth. How life does change." She let out a little laugh as reached for her tea cup.

Draco starred at her. He had not heard his mother laugh in… he didn't remember the last time he had heard her laugh. He had never thought he would hear it again. But here she was, laughing and eating and drinking her potion-laced tea without any complaint. Draco looked to Severus for confirmation that he was seeing what he thought he was seeing, but Severus' attention was on his mother. _Change, indeed._

/

Ron was nervous, but not for the reasons anyone else might have assumed a best man to be nervous. He knew Harry was marrying the best girl for him besides Ginny, and he knew Harry had finally made peace with Ginny about it. He was happy for Harry. He didn't think anyone deserved happiness more than his best mate. No, it wasn't the ceremony that had him worried, but rather the guests. Specifically, Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, seated two rows behind Franck. Draco's eyes had not left Ron since they were ushered into the church ten minutes before and the gaze was starting to make him fidget. How was he supposed to hide the situation from Franck with Draco making doe eyes at him and Fleur giving him meaningful looks from her seat right next to Bill.

"Why does Malfoy look like he wants to eat you?" Neville asked, a half-skeptical, half-disgusted look on his face.

Ron sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Because he's trying to kill me." Neville gave him a bemused look, but shrugged in the universal sign of 'whatever'.

Harry walked up next to them, nervously adjusting his tie, smoothing his dress robes, checking his hair (messy as ever despite loads of hair gel and half an hour of work on Hermione's part). "You look great, mate," Ron whispered, batting his hand away from his glasses.

Harry smiled a shaky smile and straightened. "Thanks. I'm just really nervous. This is a big step, yeah? I just know I'm going to muck it up."

Ron grinned past his own nervousness and patted Harry's back. "It'll be great. Don't worry."

Harry nodded and glanced at the crowd before shooting a curious look at Ron. "Draco's not far from Franck."

Ron groaned. "Don't remind me."

"What are you going to do when they meet? Draco promised he'd be on his best behavior, but that just means he won't hex on sight."

"You invited him, not me."

"He's my friend. And he's your mate, even if you won't accept him right now. You'll at least dance with him, yeah?"

"No," Ron snapped, looking at Harry like he'd grown a second head. "Are you mad?"

Harry was about to respond when the music flared up and the look of excited panic took over his face again. Hermione appeared from a side door, looking as pretty as the day she herself was married, and stepped between Ron and Neville. The doors at the back of the church opened and the ceremony was set to begin.

/

The party was in full swing and there had yet to be an incident with Malfoy, a fact Ron was very glad of. After the initial introduction, Malfoy had been respectful enough to keep his distance, dancing on the other side of the floor, though his eyes rarely left Ron's vicinity. Ron himself was enjoying the reception, doing his best to pretend Malfoy wasn't there. It was hard for him to do, especially when he caught sight of Draco asking Ron's own mother to dance. Molly had looked shocked, but she had grudgingly agreed, and the more she spoke with Malfoy, the less displeased with his presence she looked. Ron even witnessed her smile at him once before darting a look in Ron's direction that forced Ron to focus on Franck again.

After that, there was little Ron could do to stop himself from watching Malfoy's movements. He moved from Molly to Fleur, then Harry (though Harry had initially looked uncomfortable with the idea), and even Emma, who looked so radiant in her wedding gown that Ron had almost been jealous of Harry. Ron knew that Malfoy didn't like Emma, but they seemed to speak civilly and Emma even laughed at something he said. Ron found himself wishing he could know what Malfoy could possibly have said to make her laugh.

Once Ron fully realized what he was doing, he shook himself of the odd fascination and focused on his lover. Franck was holding him close and swaying to the jazz band Harry had hired, humming along with the music. Ron laid his head on Franck's shoulder and lost himself in his lover, forgetting about the outside world for a while. That was until the outside world barged in. Franck turned to look behind him and pulled away a little, and there stood the veela, eyes on Ron though he addressed Franck. "Would you mind if I cut in?" he asked, as polite as he had promised Harry he could be. He looked gorgeous, though Ron hated himself for thinking so. He wore grey silk robes that brought out the shimmer in his hair and made his eyes sparkle. Ron could hardly look away.

Franck stepped aside without protest and went to sweep his littlest cousin off her tiny slippered feet. Ron would have heard Victoire's giggle, but Draco was there, insinuating himself into Ron's embrace and causing every nerve in Ron's body to tingle with warmth. He had managed to forget how good Draco felt to the touch, and the reminder was almost overwhelming. Draco smiled up at him as though he held the key to all existence and swayed closer. "I've missed you," he said, voice low and sexy.

"You've said," Ron replied, tightening his hold on the blond's back.

"You have been reading my letters, then?"

"You know I have."

"Even the one about the tent?" His smile turned coy and he leaned in closer.

Ron turned a violent shade of red remembering the filthy words Draco had written to him and how aroused they had left him. He was ashamed to say, but he had wanked on more than one occasion to the fantasy Draco had constructed, however flawed and silly it might have been to think they might live in a tent somewhere. "Yeah, that was a… an interesting one."

"Did it turn you on?"

Ron choked, his hand clenching at the silk of Draco's robes. "I thought you promised Harry you'd be on your best behavior."

"I did. I apologize. It's just… I want you so much and it makes me feel good knowing you might want me even a fraction as much. I know you don't want to hear it, but I can't help it."

"Try please." He would have said more, but Draco's fingers migrated from his shoulder to his neck and up into his hair, leaving a trail of tingling warmth behind, and he momentarily forgot his own name. Fingers in his hair was Ron's weak spot, and combined with the intense pleasure of Draco's touch was nirvana. Draco smelled brilliant and the fingers massaging his skull were brilliant and Draco was pressed as close as he could be and Ron wanted to kiss him so badly he couldn't think of anything else. "Stop using your veela stuff on me," he murmured weakly, fighting the urge to kiss.

Draco was reaching up to meet his lips. "I'm not doing anything I can stop. This isn't pheromones. It's the mate connection. This is how it could always be, Ron."

Ron's lips were mere centimeters from Draco's when he was brought back to reality by George and his date 'accidentally' bumping into them while they danced erratically past. Ron started, blinking out of the warm haze he had been in. Draco glared daggers at George and his date. Ron pulled away as though burned. "I told you to stop."

"And I told you I can't. I wasn't doing anything except touching you."

"Well, don't." He took a large step back before swiveling and walking away. He couldn't look at the pain threatening to swallow Malfoy whole. Franck was standing at the edge of the dance floor, looking upset at what he had just witnessed.

"What iz going on? 'Oo is zis person to you?" Franck asked as soon as Ron was within ear shot.

Ron shrugged, hoping the lie wasn't obvious on his face. He could usually judge Franck's level of upset by the strength of his accent, and he hoped to nonchalant his way out of the situation before his lover started speaking Frenglish. He had learned the hard way that it was much more difficult to calm someone down when you couldn't understand every third word they were saying. "Just Malfoy. He doesn't take no for an answer."

"Do you desire 'im?" Franck cocked his head to the side like a curious dog, making Ron even more uneasy.

"I… no! I want to be with you," he insisted, moving into Franck's personal space. Franck's whole demeanor warmed at the words, and he smiled and cupped Ron's face in his hands, kissing him lightly.

"And I you, mon coeur. But zat does not mean you could not sleep wis zis man, if you really want to. I do not mind if it would make you 'appy."

Ron's eyes grew wide. Franck had mentioned having an open relationship before, but Ron had never taken him seriously. He felt his stomach drop out and found his eyes drifting to Malfoy, glaring daggers at Franck from where his mother had forced him to dance with her. The sheer possessive jealousy plain on his face made Ron fear for Franck's life. "I'm not interested in that. Really, no," he insisted when his lover's face turned skeptical. Franck shrugged and kissed him again.

"I wish you to be 'appy only, mon coeur. Forget I said it. Would you like a drink?"

"Please." One quick kiss later and Franck was striding towards the drinks table. Ron's eyes followed him until his line of sight was blocked by a determined blond. "Go away, Malfoy."

"I would prefer you call me Draco, and no. What did that monster say to you to make you look like you might be sick? I won't have my mate unduly ill."

"I'm not—" Ron stopped, unable to finish the sentence. Draco did it for him.

"What? My mate? You most certainly are, and you know it. Why else would your heart speed up whenever I touch you?" He pressed his palm over Ron's heart, which did just what he said it would and sped up. "Your body knows me, knows that we belong to each other. I know you can feel it."

He _could_ feel it, the heat through his dress robes, the accelerated breathing, the sweaty palms, the insistence that he must reach out and touch Draco back, kiss him, find a private place and make love to him. The intensity of it scared him and he pulled quickly away. "Stop it. Leave. Me. Alone," he snapped, voice almost a growl. Draco's face fell and he took a step back. He opened his mouth to say something, but they were interrupted by Fleur, who rushed up to them and unceremoniously slapped Ron.

"Sale menteur! Tu devrais avoir honte de toi-même! Je ne peux pas croire que tu serais assez têtu que tu mentirais à mon visage! Qu'est-ce que tu as ?" she shouted at him, poking him hard in the chest.

"I have no idea what you're shouting at me!" Ron snapped back, rubbing his stinging cheek. Fleur only glared and pointed a finger at Franck, standing a few feet away with a shocked expression on his face. Apparently, while Ron and Draco were having their little drama, a much bigger revelation had been happening at the bar.

"She says zat you lied to 'er. You told 'er zat I knew about ze veela and did not care? Mon coeur, 'ow could you zink zat I would do zat to anozer veela? I am 'aving ze ill feeling about zis. I would never... And you let 'im watch me kiss you? 'Ow cruel! I cannot be wis someone who iz zat soughtless." His speech was heavy with tears, though he wasn't crying yet. The pain was clear on his face.

It was illogical and completely wrong, but Ron suddenly found himself angry not at Fleur, not at Malfoy, but at Franck. He knew that Franck wasn't in any way at fault for the situation, but that did not stop him from snapping back, "You just told me I could sleep with him and you would be okay with it! How cruel is that? Every time you say something like that, it makes me wonder about all the time you have to sleep with other people while I'm away. Is that why you don't want to marry me? How could you do that to someone you supposedly love and then accuse me of hurting someone I don't even _like_?" He regretted the comment immediately afterward, but by then it was too late to take the words back.

Franck looked even more hurt. "I 'ave never… I only suggested it because I could see zer was somesing importante between you and zis person. And I was vrai, non? You are mated. Grand-Mère was right, as always. I should 'ave listened to 'er in ze first place and not connected myself wis someone 'oo was already meant for anozer."

"Franck…" Ron tried, but Franck shook his head and took a step back. "No. Je t'aime, mon cœur, but we are no more. It was stupid for me to even approach you in ze first place. Be wis your veela. It is what is meant." He turned and walked away into the small crowd that had formed around them.

Ron heard the loud pop of Apparition before he could think of anything to say to make Franck come back. He looked around at the assembled guests without seeing anyone and knew that he had to leave or he was going to cry in the middle of Harry's wedding reception and ruin the evening more than he already had. Someone took his hand—Draco, he knew because it was warm and he suddenly felt better. Except that it wasn't better; it was worse. He pulled away from the veela and glared viciously at him. "Don't touch me! This is all your fault. I hope you're happy." He didn't wait to watch Draco burst into tears before storming out of the hall. Hermione followed him, but he shrugged her off, claiming he wanted to be alone.

Without anywhere to go, he walked aimlessly, trying to wrap his head around what had just happened and how he was going to deal with the aftermath. Half an hour later, he found himself standing in front of a park with no answers and a burning in his throat. He found his way to a swing and collapsed into it.

/

Franck refused his owl the next day, so Ron had to take action in other ways. The Floo network was blocked at Beauxbatons, but Franck's home was connected. Ron went through, hoping his lover was home. Five minutes of wandering the house told Ron he wasn't. He Apparated to Beauxbatons and walked to Franck's office on the off-chance that he was there. It was empty, as were his quarters. Frustrated, Ron didn't even return the greetings of the beautiful little girls who giggled at him in the corridors as he walked back to the Apparition point. He Apparated back to Franck's and used his International Floo powder to go to Egypt as a last resort. He found Franck in his office, a stack of parchment in his hands. Ron's heart fell to his stomach. He knew what was in that stack.

"Nine months? You 'ave known about zis for nine months? 'Ow could you know about zis… 'ow could you keep 'is letters like zis and never say a word?" He looked hurt, betrayed. Ron didn't know quite what to say. Binning the letters hadn't felt right somehow. He hadn't thought it would mean anything to keep them. Obviously, he had been wrong.

"I didn't think it mattered. Yeah, I'm his mate, but he's not who I want to be with. You are."

Franck stood, the hurt somehow worse. There were definite tears now, trailing down his cheeks and somehow making him look more gorgeous than he ever had before. Ron thought he might start crying himself. "Non, mon coeur. You cannot lie anymore."

"I'm not lying! I love you. I barely know Malfoy."

"'E is in your 'eart or you would not keep such zings." He held up the letters as if they proved his point. "And you forget zat I saw you wis him. I cannot be wis someone 'ose 'eart belongs to anozer. Even if you do not want to say it is."

"Franck…"

"Do you know what I 'ate ze most about zis? It is not zat you lied or zat you are taken away from me. It is zat you 'ave let me betray anozer veela. I want to apologize to 'im for somesing I did not even know I did!" He waved the letters around angrily, tears streaming down his face. A lump formed in Ron's throat and he stepped closer, grabbing Franck's wrist to stop his flailing.

"Can you stop for a minute? I'm sorry I didn't tell you about this, but I didn't want to lose you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, remember?" He pulled Franck closer until they were nose-to-nose. Franck narrowed his eyes at him.

"Zen why did you keep ze letters?"

Ron again had no answer. "I don't know. It just… it felt wrong to bin them."

Franck shook his head and stepped all the way out of Ron's personal space. It was like standing in a doorway on a cold winter's night and having the door shut in his face. "I wanted to spend ze rest of my life wiz you, aussi, but I cannot betray anozer veela. I will miss you, but zis is for ze best. Be 'appy, mon coeur. Je t'aime." He handed the letters to Ron and kissed his cheek. Ron stood frozen, not knowing what to say. He didn't move until Franck was already gone and it was too late to run after him. He did the only thing he could think of to do; he took the Floo home to Mum.

/

Ron awoke to the warm scent of baked cinnamon and only paused long enough to pull on sleep trousers before drifting downstairs in search of the source. His mum looked up from the fresh scones she had just placed on the table and gave him a pointed look. He looked down at himself, rolled his eyes, and accio'd a shirt.

"That's better, dear. Breakfast?" she asked warmly.

He sat without further invitation and tucked in. He was just biting into his third scone when he finally noticed something. "Where's everyone?"

"Already gone for the day. I thought we might have a chat, just the two of us. It's been a long time since we talked, hasn't it, love?"

The partially digested scones already in his stomach felt heavy, and he put the half-eaten one down. "Mum…"

Molly ignored his plea and pushed his dirty fringe from his eyes. "I love you very much, Ronnie. I know you've always struggled in this family, being the youngest boy, getting the worst of the hand-me-downs, always left for last. I never wanted that for you, you know. You might not believe it, but I always knew you were special, my baby boy." She kissed him on the cheek and continued to play with his hair. Ron should have been worried about where this was going, but her fingers were so soothing that he couldn't muster up the energy to mind.

"You know I've never much liked that Malfoy boy. He was rude to you when you were younger, and Lucius… Well, let's just say that dislike was justified. But even so, if there is one good thing I know about that boy, it's that he loves like a Weasley, with his whole heart. He loved Justin that way, while he still thought he should. I watched him every time Justin brought him round. Even though it was obvious to anyone with eyes that he hated being here, he was always polite, always trying, because he wanted to make Justin happy."

Ron would have stopped this line of conversation a long time ago, but his mother knew how to ply him with baked goods and soothe him enough to make him listen even when he didn't want to. "Of course, I knew right away that Justin wasn't really meant for him. He tried very hard to be in love with Justin, but I don't think he ever was. And now we know why."

"Why?" Ron mumbled around a fourth scone.

"Why, he was waiting for you, love. Just one glance at him when you're in the same room can tell a person that much. All he sees is you. When I danced with him yesterday, all he could talk about was you. Isn't that what you always wanted? To be someone's total focus? I always wanted that for you, but it wasn't something I could give you myself."

"You don't even like him."

"I don't know him very well. And neither do you."

"I thought you liked Franck."

"I do like Franck, but you were never meant to be with him forever. You're too different and in the wrong ways. He wasn't right for you."

"And you think Draco is."

"Yes. I watched you dancing with him the other day. You Know Who himself could have appeared right next to you, and Draco wouldn't have taken any notice."

"He is sort of… intense."

"You're his mate. He is probably completely miserable without you. You should go and see him."

"Er, now?" Ron dropped the last few crumbs of his breakfast to stare from his mother's face to the old pajamas he was wearing.

Molly smiled and pushed his hair from his eyes. "Something tells me he won't even notice."

Ron stared down at the platter, previously piled high with warm, crusty scones, now down to just two. His thoughts were all over the place, images of Franck's hurt face as he left Ron's flat, Draco's warm touch, the manky smell wafting off Ron from having washed neither his clothes nor himself in a twenty-four-hour-period. He looked at his mum again, patient and accepting of whatever he decided to do, and nodded. "I think I will." He kissed his mother on the cheek and thanked her before standing and going back upstairs for his wand. He Apparated to the Manor as soon as his wand was in his hand, so that he didn't have time to talk himself out of the visit.

The entrance was as intimidating as he had always imagined it to be, with giant hedge rows and a huge iron gate. It was a good thing he'd landed on soft packed earth because he realized belatedly that he wasn't even wearing shoes. He could see a white peacock wandering across the path behind the gate and watched its progress, not sure how to open the gate as pushing didn't work. A house-elf popped up behind the gate and stared at him.

"Er, hello. Is er… is Draco in?"

"Master Draco is being ill. Who is you?" The elf's expression was accusatory and a little disgusted. It probably wasn't normal for strange young men to appear at the house unwashed and in only their pajamas.

"I'm Ron Weasley." Ron's stomach flipped at the admission. Even if he ran now, Malfoy would know he'd come.

The elf's entire expression changed to delighted surprise. "Master Wheezie?" the elf squeaked excitedly. The gate vanished at the snap of his fingers and he grabbed Ron's arm, pulling him along the lane and inside the house before Ron had time to protest. "Master Draco is not leaving his bed since he is coming home from Harry Potter's wedding party. Mistress and Master Snape is not knowing what to do. But Master Draco is going to be so happy you is here, Master Wheezie!" the elf rambled, pulling Ron along so quickly that Ron didn't even have time to register his surroundings. They stopped abruptly at a large, oak door with an ornate carving of a dragon. Ron stared at the carving for a minute, still processing the trip up two flights of stairs and through more corridors than he could remember. The carving glared back at him and blew an ineffectual puff of smoke at him.

"Is this his bedroom?" Ron asked awkwardly.

The elf nodded enthusiastically and gave him a little push. "Master Draco is sleeping, but he is not minding you waking him, I do not think."

"Right. Thanks." Ron pushed the door open a crack and peered in. The room was massive, or at least he thought it might be. The curtains were drawn, there were no candles lit, and the fire had banked low. He could make out the huge oak bed, but its occupant was hidden by thick curtains pulled closed. The elf gave him another gentle push, and he stepped into the room. Now that he was inside, he could hear the soft sound of movement behind the curtains. Maybe Draco wasn't as asleep as the elf had thought. He crept closer and pulled the curtain at the side of the bed open. In the little light available he could see Malfoy's blond hair, messy and unwashed. "Malfoy?" he whispered. Malfoy shifted fitfully, but didn't otherwise indicate that he had heard Ron.

"Draco?" Ron tried again, reaching out to shake his shoulder. It was like that first time he'd tried waking Malfoy so many months ago. As soon as he touched him, grey eyes were looking at him inquisitively.

"Ron?" he rasped, voice scratchy from previous sobbing. The red rim of tears was still visible around his eyes, now that Ron could see his face clearly. He looked gaunt and tired, as though he hadn't had a good meal or a good-night's sleep in months. Ron hadn't noticed on thin he was at the wedding, but it startled him now.

"I hope you don't mind me barging in. Your house-elf was pretty insistent."

"I'll have to buy him some silk tea towels." Draco sat up, watching Ron with caution. "Are you…"

"Yeah," Ron mumbled, somehow knowing what Draco was asking without having to hear the rest of the hesitant question. Draco's entire body lit up, like Fleur's had when she was pregnant, and the brief view Ron had of him before he threw himself at Ron was breathtaking. Draco kissed him, knocking into him with such force that he almost knocked them off the bed. Shocked, Ron had to grab onto him to keep them both steady in the moment before he melted into Draco's mouth and moaned. The warmth and the smell of him was overwhelming. Ron felt his tingling touch in every part of his body, even the parts Draco wasn't touching. He was consumed by the veela, and before he knew what he was about, they were sprawled across the bed together, Ron's t-shirt tossed over the side and Draco lapping at his armpit.

"Wha…? 'Smell…" Ron mumbled, distracted by the tingle of fingers brushing the waist of his sleep trousers.

"I think you smell wonderful," Draco countered, burying his nose in the thick orange curls of his armpit hair. Draco was making the strangest sound he had ever heard, sort of a cross between a dove call and a purring cat. Ron was too far gone in pleasure to consider why, but it was the sexiest sound he had ever heard. He hauled Draco up and kissed him again, rolling him onto his back. Draco's legs came up to wrap around his back, but Ron sat back up before they could, much to Draco's protest.

Ron ignored him and began peeling off his shirt. "You're wearing too many clothes," he explained as he tossed the shirt aside and leaned down to kiss a line down his breastbone. Draco's skin was just as gorgeous underneath his clothes as the skin Ron had already seen and it was baby soft against his lips. He groaned against Draco's chest and tugged down his trousers as he crawled backwards on his knees, kissing and licking along his visible ribs. "God, you're gorgeous, but we need to get you fed, yeah?"

Draco blushed at the implication that he was too thin, but didn't pull away from the heavenly touches. Ron had to pull away to tug the trousers all the way off of Draco, but he made up for the movement by licking a stripe up his prick and swallowing it whole. Draco cried out and bucked into his mouth, and Ron had to grab onto his hips to steady him. He took his time sucking Draco, testing his sensitive spots—it seemed every part of him was sensitive to Ron—tasting the sweet texture of him, trying to understand the deep connection he felt to Draco. Before, sucking cock had never been a particularly soul-connecting activity. It was intimate, yes, but nothing like the feelings that were coursing through him now. Ron felt dizzy with the need to take care of Draco, to make sure that he was protected and warm and happy.

His eyes connected with Draco's and he knew that Draco was feeling all of those same emotions, and had done since their meeting in July. Overwhelmed with the need to be close to him, Ron abandoned his task and knelt up to kiss Draco's lips and hold him close. He took over Draco's mouth, slithering his tongue across every surface of his mouth, sucking on his tongue, biting at his bottom lip. Draco's tongue vibrated with the sound of his cooing, making Ron want to fuck him even more than he already did. Ron bent one of his pale legs at the knee and pushed it to his chest before reaching down to test Draco's arse. The ring of muscle was tight and strangely wet with lube. He probed cautiously, confused in his haze of passion as to where the lube had come in. His first finger slid easily in, and he quickly found that Draco's hole was already amply lubricated for him. Where had it come from?

"Did you know I was coming?" he rasped into Draco's mouth.

Draco laughed and shook his head, squirming his arse closer. "My body makes lube all by itself, like a girl. Started when I saw you again. All for you. Everything for you. God, please fuck me. I can't wait any longer." In his own frenzy, he began to babble, and Ron had to kiss him again to shut him up.

Ron pulled his fingers out of Draco and used the secretion they were covered in to coat his own erection. He pulled away from Draco's mouth to shift their positions and find his way to Draco's entrance, and in the meantime Draco had started rambling again. The words stopped as soon as Ron slid inside and both of them froze, staring into each other's eyes, unable to move. The instant Ron had slipped inside, it was like a wand flick and everything changed. He could feel Draco's heart beating an insane rhythm, almost as though it had left Draco's body and taken up residence in his own chest; he could feel Draco's lungs expand and contract, feel his skin tingle, sense the hunger inside him to please his mate, to be everything Ron wanted and needed him to be. There was no longer any question of Draco's feelings for him; Ron could feel everything as though they were his own emotions.

It was only a moment, but that moment lasted an eternity to them both, and the whole world stopped in motion. The instant it all came crashing back down, Ron dropped into Draco's arms and began to thrust in earnest. Draco whined and pulled at his shoulders and words of love and devotion came pouring from his lips and into Ron's ear. It was all he heard for a long time.

/

Neither of them was coherent again for several hours, not until they had made love three times and both were too weak to move. The intensity of their connection had faded after their first orgasm, but each still sensed the dull pulse of a heartbeat next to their own. Draco lay on Ron's chest, listening to his heartbeat in sync with the faded one he could still sense next to his own, while Ron combed fingers through his greasy blond hair.

"We should take a bath," Ron said.

"Can we do it later? I want to stay here with you a little bit longer." Draco murmured as he shifted ever closer, his fingers wrapping around Ron's bicep as if to keep him in place.

"Don't I smell? I didn't shower today and after what we just did… I feel like I just swam in sewage."

"Can we have sex again afterwards? I like being covered in your sweat."

Ron thought that might have been the strangest thing anyone had ever said to him, but he was still flying on a veela high, so he ignored it. "Yeah, 'course. You'll have to wait a tick, though. 'Ve never shagged more'n three times in a day." Ron paused, as though something unexpected had just occurred to him. "You know, I wasn't planning on having sex when I came here. I just wanted to talk to you."

He could feel heat against his skin and peered down to see a slight pink rosining Draco's cheek. "That was my fault. I've been working so hard to keep my pheromones in check around you that when you finally agreed to be with me, they… er, exploded, I guess."

Ron knew he should have been angry, but he wasn't really surprised, and he wasn't angry. Draco pressed a kiss to the spot just over his heart and sat up on his hands. He looked a little more serious than Ron's level of consciousness could handle, and Ron squirmed a bit. "I'm sorry. You aren't going to leave me, are you?"

"I…" Ron paused, stumped. He hadn't been thinking in permanent terms when he'd come to the Manor. He'd been a bit skeptical that he and Draco could even stay civil for more than an hour, let alone eternity. But now, looking up at that gorgeous, earnest face and remembering the powerful flood of emotions he had known were Draco's, it was hard to say what he wanted. He didn't love Draco yet, though he knew he would do everything in his power to protect him, but a voice in his head—one that sounded suspiciously like his mum—whispered 'You could.' "No, I don't think I will." Draco beamed and kissed him. Ron framed his face with his hands and pulled away an inch to look him in the eyes, smirking. "Just so we're clear, we won't be living in any tents anytime soon, yeah?"

The glow of love and warmth intensified around Draco, making him so gorgeous Ron wanted to punch himself for taking so long to give in. "I've never much liked tents, anyway."

/

**Form:** 83352739

**Name:** Draco Malfoy

**Registry Number:** 625369

**Date:** 15 sept 2006

**Age:** 26

**Mate:** Ronald Weasley

**Current Location:** Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England

**Number of Sexual Encounter(s):** 10

**Name(s) of Partner(s):** Ronald Weasley 10(M)

**Age(s) of Partner(s):** 26

**Species of Partner(s):** Wizard

**Description of Sexual Encounter(s):** Absolutely none of your business, nor will it ever be. What happens between a veela and his mate is usacred/u. Suffice it to say that the sexual bond has been created.

**Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s)?:** None.

**If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects?: **

**Did any encounter result in pregnancy?:**

**Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate?:**

**If so, how and why?:**

**Comments: **Everything that has led up to this moment has been worth it. There are no words for how happy I am. No words at all.

FIN


End file.
